


Strained

by thedawncomes



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms, Phantom - Susan Kay, Phantom of the Opera - Lloyd Webber
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Feels, Assassin!Erik, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Christine has been locked up like Rapunzel, Corrupt Raoul, Darker Christine because you would be too with an aunt like hers, F/M, Fluff, Inspired by Tangled (2010), Nightingale Effect/Hero Worship, Rescue, Romance, probably smut later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:47:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 27,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27257404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedawncomes/pseuds/thedawncomes
Summary: Modern AU. When the world's most deadly assassin stumbles across a letter tied to a balloon, he becomes intrigued. The irony is not lost to him. A monster saving a princess from her ivory tower? E/C. M for sexual content and violence. Inspired by Kay/ALW and Disney's Tangled.
Relationships: Christine Daaé/Erik | Phantom of the Opera
Comments: 76
Kudos: 60





	1. Birthday Wishes

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note: Hello and welcome! I was watching Tangled with my two year old daughter and had was struck by this plot bunny. It'll be a bit of an adventure, but I'm excited to get it under way.
> 
> This story is dedicated to the lovely authors who have inspired this story and my need to start writing E/C fanfiction. MulticoloredRosePetals, Batty Dings, VeroniqueClaire, Wheel of Fish— thank you for the thousands of words worth of inspiration and motivation. Each one of you has pulled me out of the abyss of my insanity—and didn't even know it.
> 
> Resources: the-dawn-comes*tumblr*com for all background and layout visuals.
> 
> Please leave me a review—I would love to know if this is something I should continue. Without further ado, enjoy!

Every year, I am asked the same question.

"What would you like for your birthday this year?"

The woman was tall, blonde, and blue eyed. I imagine I would have looked just like her, had my mother not been American and bestowed her wildly curling auburn brown hair. I liked to think of my hair as an act of rebellion. It would never be sleek enough for this woman who always demanded perfection. Regally dressed and eyeing her newest manicure, she was hardly acting like the loving aunt she used to pretend she was. After all, I had never given her reason to doubt me. Never given reason for her to think I was anything but the mousy girl, submissive and subservient.

In another life, I could have been an actress.

Eyes widening, I blinked up at her owlishly. I tried to look like the girl who had it all—what more could I want?

I learned early on that any request that required me to leave my 'home' was not acceptable. It had been over two thousand days since I had last set foot in the real world. Six years since I had seen another person my aunt did not especially invite into our 'home'. A lifetime since I had last felt free.

Aunt Camilla finally looked up from her nails when I didn't reply quickly enough, lips too full to be natural pulling downwards in displeasure. The gesture was accompanied by a flicker of color, it's meaning somehow known to me. Sickly green. _Displeasure_.

This year's offering to prove her love to me would be simple.

"Balloons. The kind filled with helium." Everything about me was meant to disarm her. Make her comfortable. Doe eyes that always looked too big, my posture insecure and attempting to make myself smaller. Even my soft voice, gentle and hesitant. I've had a lot of practice to look nonthreatening and meek.

The colors that constantly swirled around my aunt flickered. Every person was similar in this one regard—they had a solid color that seemed to stay with them always. I thought of it as their aura and the colors that swirled around in it were their emotions. It was the one way I truly knew a person. It was what I thought to be my greatest strength, and greatest defense—knowing a person's heart better than they did.

My aunt's aura was always orange. An ugly color. _Ambitious. Prideful_. It was consistently darkened by the swirls of vibrant green— _greed_ —and, when dealing with me, musky red— _annoyance_.

"What girl asks for balloons for her twentieth birthday?" she protested.

A girl with one last hope. One last idea to gain her freedom. If this failed too… Then the chain would end. With me.

I simply smiled my 'naive girl' smile, not daring to show how important this was to me. I couldn't make her suspicious.

Her words echoed in my head, long after she removed herself from my sight. Another reminder of her cruel nature. I closed my eyes, drained from all the acting.

 _"Be grateful, Christine_ ," she would tell me. _"Most orphans don't have it as good as you."_

Sure, my most basic needs were met. I was fed, clothed, and sheltered. However, most orphans were allowed to walk down the street. Most orphans were allowed to go to school. Most orphans were allowed freedom.

_Just a little longer._

* * *

The morning before my twentieth birthday, I awoke to numerous balloons surrounding my room. Balloons of gold, rose, and white floated high above me. I found even more lingering on the ground when I slipped a foot out of bed. Ribbon danced in the overhead and for the first time in a long while, I felt optimistic.

My aunt, being the prideful woman she is, decided to present me with my balloons the day before my birthday celebration. A display of such a cheap gift would only embarrass her in front of all her high class friends she had no doubt invited to celebrate.

It suited me just fine this way.

Pulling my robe over my pj's, I leaned back over my bed to dig my hand into the pillowcase and drew out a few sealed envelopes. It only took a moment to attach them to a few balloons, silently praying over each one to who—or what—ever cursed me to live this way.

And then with more determination and confidence than I felt, I strode through my room, opened the door to my balcony and released the balloons into the air.

 _Help me_ , I silently pleaded as I watched them disappear into the distance. _Save me._


	2. The Celebration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A party in which the guest of honor doesn't know anyone. Christine begins to feel the mounting pressure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Thank you so much to ensorcels, past_the_point_of_obsession, and SloaneDestler for the reviews and kind words. I do this for the reviews, so I appreciate any little comment. 
> 
> Please enjoy!

The first time I met one of my aunt’s friends, I was fifteen. A late bloomer, it was a time when I was just barely on the verge of becoming a woman. Awkward after the death of my last _feeling_ relative and hormones running rampant, I was at my most vulnerable. My heart was more than willing to feel empathy for others. My mother had taught me well to become an adult, just not so well to become a ‘true’ Daae daughter. The heart my mother loved me for had become my downfall.

The man was rolled in on a wheelchair. Thick wrinkles, large nose and ears. He looked so very small as a larger man pushed him into our apartment. He was dressed in a nice suit but huddled into himself. My aunt had smiled in her forced kind of way as she nudged me to politely say hello.

I did not.

I was too busy staring at the strange man. Not because he was so obviously old, but because he was _cloaked_ in darkness. It clung to him, obscuring his aura and mood. I couldn’t look past it—the old man seemed to be permeating a murkiness..

He smelt of death. He was dying.

I had felt so bad for him, so sad that he was so obviously at the end of his life that when asked to sing for him, I didn’t think twice. I opened my mouth and sang, fueled by the strange sadness that he would very soon pass on.

Something in me shattered. I could feel _that_ _something_ was leaving me. Being _sucked_ from me and sent to the old man. My voice broke, cut off by the pain of losing a part of myself. No one caught me as I fell. I laid there, battered on the ground and my cheek cooled by the marble floor. I just barely caught sight of the old man pulling himself to his feet from his wheelchair before darkness overcame me.

_What would you give for just one more year?_

* * *

With the dawn on the day of my birthday celebration came the needless preparations. Women I had never seen before streamed into my room and bathroom, pulling my arm this way, pushing back cuticles, plucking undesirable hairs, and hosing me down with enough hairspray to turn me into a barbie doll.

The amount of effort being put into my appearance simply proved my unhappy reality. Anxiety rolled in my stomach at what was to come. I forced myself to meditate as the women worked, to calm as they prepared me like a lamb to slaughter.

Because after tonight, I was certain it would all come to a head. Either I would live… or I would die.

My eyes glanced out the glass doors to my balcony as a woman laced up the mauve ball gown. I ignored how it was laced up too tight, the plunging neckline and my bare shoulders. I forced myself to stare blankly outside, certain my thoughts were anything but what a twenty year old should be thinking. Others turning two decades should be excited. Only one more year until it was legal to drink and have finally lost the stigma of having ‘teen’ at the end of their age. A young adult with their entire life ahead of them.

No, as I stared blindly at the other buildings we towered over, my mind was filled with darkness and a growing loss of hope. Perhaps no one had found my pleas for help. It was a fool’s errand, after all. If I had not been able to escape in the last six years, how could I hope that someone else could?

I was at the end of my rope and had to prepare myself for the worst. I would not become what they expected of me.

I humorlessly smiled as pretty baubles were placed on my neck, wrists, and ears. Would it feel painful? Or would it be over so quickly that I’d never even feel it? Would my stomach have a chance to drop?

I closed my eyes as they completed my makeup and hair, losing myself in the gentle sensations for they might be one of the last things I feel in this life.

* * *

It was a painful moment, being herded—I mean, escorted—into my own birthday party and knowing I didn’t know anyone. I’m sure the venue itself was beautiful—and I should have been able to focus on it as this was my first time in _six_ years to leave the front door of my apartment. But with the amount of eyes on me—more people than I had seen in my entire life—it wasn’t surprising the background seemed to dull besides the meticulous splashes of white from the floral arrangements.

I could hear the sound of my breath hitching as the eyes took on a leering quality. I was immediately aware of how exposed I felt. With the straps falling off my shoulders in a romantic wistful sort of way and the too tight bodice, it felt as if they were all waiting for it to slip just a little lower. And I knew, if that moment should come, they would eat me alive. Such a dress should have made me feel beautiful. Not _naked_.

I took my place next to my aunt, doing my best not to be forced from her side. Even if I hated her with every fiber of my being for being the sole creator of my current life, I knew without a doubt the woman would not allow me to be sullied.. Yet. 

So while she would not allow any outrageous behavior directed towards me, she would turn a blind eye to small touches. They were, after all, under the pretense of _getting to know me_.

The entire party I was carted around, reminding me very much of the time I went to the fair with my mother before she died. Never before had I felt such a connection with livestock, their large glassy eyes that looked dead inside.

Each of the men she introduced me to—for there were no females at this party but for ones her age or older—had the same look in their eyes. They would hold my hand a little too long, fingers brushing over the tender skin of my wrist. Some would reach up to push a curl behind my ear. Others would run a hand down my arm.

All made my skin crawl.

“Ah,” my aunt’s voice teased, pulling me back from the void I’d gone to. The majority of the party had passed by me—I preferred it that way, otherwise I would lose it. I looked up at her, catching the sight of pleasure in her eyes. She’d noticed someone, it seemed. She gave an apologetic look to the man she had most recently ‘introduced’ me to. “Forgive me, Vladimir. There is someone we must speak with before the night grows too late. I look forward to hearing your offer soon.”

She starts walking away and I’m a half step behind her—as I always have been the entire evening—when suddenly I’m yanked backwards by my wrist. A yelp escapes me before a quick jolt through me causes me to bite my tongue, instantly silencing me.

Hair raising, skin crawling, instincts screaming. Breath at the back of my exposed neck and then a face pressed into my hair. _“I look forward to making you scream on our wedding night,”_ Vladimir’s voice hisses into my ear. His hand tightens on my wrist so hard I could feel the bones there straining to keep their shape even as they were forced to rub against one another. The pain gave me a terrifying certainty—he means it. I was not completely sheltered. I knew what that meant. I could feel him pressing against my back, a hand on my back and snaking lower—grabbing me.

And then I’m being propelled forward, legs somehow working even though I wish to fall, vomit all over this beautiful floor and shatter so fully they would never be able to put me back together again. I reach Aunt Camilla’s side and she doesn’t even spare me a glance, so focused on whoever we’re going to meet on the other side of the room.

All I can think about is needing to dunk myself in bleach and my red wrist. A bruise would form there.

“Raoul de Chagny! I had hoped you would make it.”

My head snapped up at the name, a sudden light filling my chest. Memories of a beach and a wet scarf, of stories and chocolates came to my mind. Pieces of my golden childhood before my mother departed.

The man before me was beautiful. Pushed back blonde hair, glass blue eyes, and a stature that spoke of a boy who had become a man. The small boy I had known was there in his smile and the way his eyes softened.

He was perfect in every way.

My heart sank.

In a room full of aura laced in red, orange, green and bitter blues… He was no different. _Ambition, pride, arrogance._ An ugly mix of red and orange. He looked no different from my selfish aunt.

“I wouldn’t miss it, Camilla. My family is always pleased to enjoy a close relationship with you and yours.” His words had the practiced art of politicians. The little boy who’s aura was once of soft yellows and true pinks had been corrupted by the world. I mourned in my heart even as his eyes turned to me.

I kept waiting for some kind of recognition.. Yet nothing came.

“Ah, yes,” Camilla nodded, looking back at me as if just remembering I was there. “My niece, Christine. Don’t just stand there girl,” she snapped. Red and purple intertwined with her aura. _Annoyance. Loathing._

Interesting that the first time I would truly see her contempt for me would be before Raoul.

“I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Raoul de Chagny,” I murmured.

“Is he not quite handsome, Christine?”

Though a question directed to me, I did not have the time to reply.

“You’re too kind, madam.”

Camilla went to great lengths after that to isolate me from the conversation. They spoke of business, of his family, of past events they had both attended. The looks the two of them gave each other… It was the look of expectation that came into Camilla’s eyes every time I was expected to sing for someone.

At the very least, she wouldn’t announce an engagement with Vladimir. If my plans failed, I wouldn’t need to worry about the abuse that would have come at his hands.

I glanced down at my wrist, noticing the swell between my arm and hand where it had once been smooth.

I could feel a noose settling around my neck. It would constrict more and more as I struggled, until they stole the last breath of my lungs. These people that surrounded me, all their auras ugly and grotesque, wished nothing but to drain the color from my cheeks, the strength of my body… The vitality of my youth. They would leave me a hollow husk.

I decided, even as I did my best to smile sweetly at Raoul and Camilla who carried on in their own little bubble, that I would end this—once and for all. Tonight.


	3. The Assassin and the Shut-In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter our deadly assassin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the late evening update! Last minute Halloween plans kept me from my computer. (Luckily, I wrote the bulk of this last night.) Tomorrow might not see an update- my little red riding hood daughter must go in search of some candy (in a covid friendly way).  
> Music used in this chapter is "Hurt" by Johnny Cash. (I don't own it, obviously.)  
> Please enjoy and tell me your thoughts! Goodnight~  
> (Reminder that you can check over at the-dawn-comes*tumblr*com for visuals and such!)

I don’t know how long I stood there, smiling prettily as my aunt and Raoul droned on. It took me back for a moment to those long church Sundays with my mother as I waited behind her skirts for her to finish speaking with her friends so we could return home.

Being reminded of my mother—who would have never allowed for this, never allowed my current life to take place—while surrounded by these strangers who wanted nothing more than to drain me soured my mood. So much so, I didn’t mind when Camilla remembered my presence and called for someone—one of the bodyguards—to send me home. The fact I was no longer needed at my own party spoke volumes. From the eyes on my form as I left, surrounded by four large men, I wasn’t the only one to take notice of it.

My jaw clenched and my chin rose higher in response to my need to cower. There was no doubt in my mind that my aunt would be receiving several lucrative offers for me. After all, who wouldn’t want to marry into such a family? 

I breathed in through my nose and out through my mouth, desperate not to be sick. When before wild animals, you could not show weakness.

* * *

Dropped off at the door, I paused just inside the apartment, ears straining as I listened. There was a distinctive click of the lock sliding home. It felt like the last nail into my coffin.

Breezing through the apartment, I felt no emotional ties to the familiar space. I had been surrounded by beautiful objects and plants, and enjoyed most comforts of modern living. And yet, I knew better than anyone that all those things just amounted to a beautiful prison. None of it compared to the fourteen years spent surrounded by love.

For this reason, I could think of myself as very lucky. Had I lived this way from birth, I might not have had the strength to question it. Had I lacked the love given to me from my mother—and through her my father—I would have never known what I was deficient of.

I closed myself into my bedroom. The balloons from the day before were nowhere to be seen, but I could see a bundle of them from the glass doors, attached to my balcony railing. A beacon of hope, bright against the night sky. Should anyone have discovered my letter, they would know it came from this building.

I stood at the railing, fingers gingerly reaching out to grip the cool metal. I struggled to breathe out here in the chill of evening, an attack just on the horizon. I could feel the tell tale signs creeping up on me—pulse roaring in my ears, trembling ripping through me, beads of sweat appearing, dizziness… 

I almost felt like I wasn’t  _ me  _ anymore. Like the panic was pulling me away.

Even through the panic, I knew that couldn’t be real.

Hands tightening on the railing to center myself, I felt tears pricking my eyes. No matter how long I stood here… No one was coming to save me. No angel of music my mother had promised to send. Anyone that would have cared for me was dead.

No one could save me. I had to save myself.

By any means possible, or I would truly lose myself.

Lyrics came to my mind, a song I had never sung in this house for fear of punishment. Songs had been demanded of myself since that day I was fifteen. Always singing for someone else, parts of me stolen. I deserved to sing something for  _ me  _ in the end.

_ I hurt myself… Today. _

_ To see if I still feel. _

_ I focus on the pain.. _

_ The only thing that’s real. _

_ The needle tears a hole, _

_ The old familiar sting. _

_ Try to kill it all away. _

_ But I remember everything. _

Tears streamed down my cheeks as I shoved the words out of my throat. Ugly words, dark lyrics that wrapped around me as protective armor. The rage and helplessness that I could never show caused my voice to strain.

_ What have I become _

_ My sweetest friend? _

_ Everyone I know goes away in the end. _

_ And you can have it all— _

_ My empire of dirt. _

_ I will let you down. _

_ I will make you hurt. _

I spat the words, no longer caring. They would take everything. They could have everything for all I cared as long as they never got  _ me. _

__ That’s when I felt it. The familiar pain of life pulling— _ draining— _ out of me. I whirled, notes still coursing through me, as I spied a dark form on the corner of my balcony. He was perfectly hidden in the darkness; had I not seen the mood of bright yellow— _ shock _ —I would have missed him. __

I didn’t stop singing. Even as I forced the intruder to take what everyone else wanted from me. I forced myself to stay on my feet. Years of giving pieces away had made my feet more steady during this ‘ritual’.

_ I wear this crown of thorns _

_ Upon my liar’s chair _

_ Full of broken thoughts _

_ I cannot repair. _

_ Beneath the stains of time _

_ The feelings disappear _

_ You are someone else _

_ I am still right here. _

Two years. A gasp left the dark figure, white gloves flashing to grip at his chest. My voice took on a hard edge as a fatigue settled over me. I pushed through it. What did it matter in the end?

_ What have I become _

_ My sweetest friend? _

_ Everyone I know _

_ Goes away in the end _

_ And you could have it all _

_ My empire of dirt. _

_ I will let you down _

_ I will make you hurt. _

Five years. The figure fell to their knees. The light-headedness was creeping into my voice, making the notes sound almost wistful. I held true to the ledge, forcing my knees to not lock despite feeling unsteady. I didn’t want to pass out here. Not when I would throw myself from the balcony soon.

_ If I could start again. _

_ A million miles away _

_ I would keep myself _

_ I would find… a way. _

The music faded from me and, like a spell was broken, the figure slumped all the way to the ground. I followed him, all strength draining from my limbs. The skirts of my mauve dress pooled around me, turning me into a flower wilting on the floor.

_ Ten years. _

It should be me lying on the ground, unconscious. Had I preformed this ritual so often that my resiliency had gone up? The thought made me sick.

“You should be grateful,” I murmured flatly as I looked at the figure. Maybe it was my panic attack talking. Why else would I speak to a senseless being who had been spying on me? “What I have given to you for free, others have paid billions for.”

I could feel my mind start to come back to me then, taking in detail as I watched the still form draw in breath.

I could make out the aura of this person.

An aura is a curious thing. It’s not like a mood which comes and goes. It is near constant and only life changing events truly affect it. It’s who a person is, at their core. And this man—for he had to be a man, now that I look at him—had somehow achieved the perfect mixture, the color a light gray.

Most had one primary color with a splash of something else. I was always surrounded by either orange, red, or green. The main vices of pride, wrath, and envy, respectively. A man like this was not a part of my aunt’s world, I would bet my life on it.

I could feel the rising of hope. Had this man come for me? Would I yet be saved?

I didn't even give pause to the darkness that clung to the edges of his aura. It was  _ death _ , like I'd always known it, but it didn't depict his own state. The man wore death wonderfully well. It spoke of the power he held in his frame. A man like this was death's companion. I would take death's confidant over Camilla Daae.

There’s a change to his breathing. Slight, but noticeable when paired to the emotions that flickered to life across his grey canvas.  _ Confusion. Apprehension.  _ Typical emotions, especially since he somehow passed out from the sound of my voice. 

His face snapped up, wildly, as if a realization had dawned. I blinked, confused for a moment as I thought the color at his eyes were simply splashes of yellow to depict a mood. They flashed in a way that baffled me, finding me in the dark. It took me longer than I wanted to admit to see that the bright yellow points in the darkness was his  _ eyes. _

Only for the briefest of moments did I wonder if he meant me ill will.

What came next stilled me completely.  _ Excitement. Pleasure.  _ Those were not typical when people looked at me.

And then I notice it. I had been too fascinated by his aura and then eyes that I had never noticed his face. A porcelain mask rested over half of his visage, giving his skin a stark white appearance on one side. Almost like the face of a ghost. It was intriguing. 

“Who are you, and how did you find me?”

“My dear, did you not call me yourself?” 

I don’t know what kind of voice I expected to come out of that mouth. I simply didn’t expect  _ his  _ voice to come out. The way his voice wrapped around me like a caress made me uncomfortable and excited all at once. 

When I didn’t respond, he pulled himself up straighter, but didn’t stand to tower over me. Instead he sat almost leisurely with me on my balcony. How strange. “I received the most curious letter yesterday and decided to see this trapped princess for myself.”

There it was. The words I had hoped, prayed, dreamed to be said to me. Well, not exactly that way, but it meant he was here to save me right?

“..Did you come to stare at the pathetic girl who could not escape her fate by herself, or did you come to help?”

“That depends entirely on you,” he stated, golden eyes burning in the dark.

“Me?” My brow furrowed as I ran through all the things he could ask of me. I had already gifted him ten years.. Not that he realized that, probably. But for the chance to live even one year out of this cage, I was certain I could give up the rest easily.

“If you promise to sing for me, I am sure  _ something  _ could be arranged.”

I found myself nodding my head even before he finished speaking. If there was one thing I'd learned from living with my aunt, it was that nothing in this world came without payment. And the price wasn't so bad compared to what awaited me otherwise. 

Even if my heart was heavy about it, I would sing for him. I would give him the rest of my life in exchange for a moment of freedom. The chain would end with me and that was all that mattered.

Another spike of orange was injected into his moods,  _ surprise. _ The shade wasn't the kind of I was used to and as it permeated his moods, I could see it swim in those bright eyes. I could feel myself staring deeper into them, as if I wished to lose myself into their happy depths. Had it been a mood, the shade would scream  _ interest, awe _ . I almost didn’t need the colors flickering his moods to read him with how expressive his eyes were. I wished I  _ couldn't  _ read him, to wrap myself with that happy color.

“Well then,” the strange man said as he pulled himself to his feet and gently offered me his hand. Anxiety flickered into his eyes right before I placed my hand in his, the emotion washed away by relief. It was almost like he thought himself a monster.. That no one would willingly touch him. 

“May I ask your name?” I asked as he helped me to my feet. When we were both on the ground, our heads were eye level, but now that we were on our feet, I realized just how tall the man truly was. How could I have not noticed him on my balcony?

“Erik.”

“My name is Christine,” I replied shyly with a small smile. “But you already knew that,” I quickly realized. Of course he knew my name. He read my letter!

“Enchanté,” he murmured, bowing over my hand. He straightened up quickly and dropped my hand like he’d been scorched as a splash of orange came into view— _ frantic.  _ “Allow me to ensure a clear path out of this gilded cage. I shall return momentarily.” 

He turned from me, started inside before he paused and turned back to eye me. “You will wait for me, yes?” The way he eyed me meant he had remembered the wording in my letter. I distinctly remember saying something like ‘if you cannot help me, I will have no other choice but to end things myself’. Embarrassing to feel the need to use such manipulative words but true.

“I promise,” I conceded as a small flush filled my cheeks.

It seemed like some kind of spell was broken the moment the strange man named Erik was out of my sight. Was he truly real? Or had I simply imagined a fantastical man that would take me away from all my grief? 

I slowly crept back to the railing of my balcony, looking over the edge. A fall from this height was certainly fatal. The blow would most likely cause my body to rupture like a water balloon—my skin would snap and show the world just how human I was underneath it all. Limbs would be snapped and twisted in unnatural angles.

A death so quick, I’d barely register falling through the air before everything simply  _ ended.  _

I looked at the corner of the balcony where I had found him spying as I sang, where he collapsed after receiving my  _ gift.  _ There was no evidence that he had ever truly been there. I could have simply dreamed of his appearance. I had nothing to prove his existence besides my fatigue and grogginess—which could be written off as exhaustion from the party.

I turned back to the ledge. I wouldn’t be alone much longer before Camilla returned. I had to put a stop to all this...

I took a deep breath as I leaned over the railing—

“ _ Christine _ !”

The depth of emotion in that voice nearly startled me into falling head first—not how I wanted to jump, thank you very much—before I was being yanked back, falling in a wave of mauve tulle. 

For a moment, my mind completely drew a blank, surprised and startled by the sudden jolt of emotion directed towards me. Arms were wrapped around my shoulders in such an affectionate and chaste embrace, pulling me back into a very firm and hard chest. My back bare, I could feel the rhythm of his heart hammer jacking in his chest.

Instantly, I was aware of two very important things. One, Erik was not a figment of my imagination. And two, from his vantage point above me, I was certain he could see inside my bodice due to the ghastly plunging neckline.

“You promised,” he hissed into my hair, voice rasping and scratchy. “I  _ told  _ you I would return!”

“I—I thought—” My voice cracked, stammering as my heart ramped up to keep time with his and my face turned the darkest shade of red. “I was—Dream! I was afraid you were a dream! You left and I was alone and I thought I simply made you up in my despair!”

The sound he made was a breathless laugh, but it was a dark thing that sent shivers down my spine. “Wretched dream that would be,” he murmured, face pressed against my hair for the briefest of moments before he straightened. In a matter of seconds, he had righted the both of us. “I have seen to our escape route, so there is no need for  _ that,  _ my dear.” He started towards the door before he suddenly looked back at me, something dawning on him. “It would be preferable if you changed into something less  _ conspicuous _ .”

I flushed and quickly went to work pulling out what I hoped to be less noticeable. When you’re never allowed to leave the apartment, you don’t have much use for comfortable and warm things like large coats, boots, or warm shirts. I worked with what I had, pulling on a pair of blue jeans, a dark camisole, and a long grey cardigan usually meant to warm lounge wear.

I grabbed my go bag—full of a few necessities—and quickly charged out my door to meet Erik. I didn’t think anyone would answer my cry for help, but I’d planned for it just in case. I sent a tiny prayer above as I found him waiting in the living area, thanking whoever sent him for this dark angel.

He was seated leisurely on an arm chair as he waited for me, an ankle resting on a knee as he eyed a book he’d picked up from somewhere. He turned his head a bit at the sound of my approach, closing the book and slipping it away into his suit coat before I could catch sight of the title. He looked down at the bag, brow raising.

“Are you bringing any electronics? I will be quite put out if I find our flight has been traced due to that bag.” 

I quickly shook my head. “No, just some toiletries and pictures. They, uh, never let me touch anything like that.”

The look on his face at my concession turned hard and he made a disapproving sound at the tip of his tongue.Then he offered me his arm as if he were a gentleman from the period dramas I used to watch with my mother. Light orange— _ anxiety _ —flickered into view, his mood there for me to see. Reaching out, I watched as a light orange mellowed into a delicate yellow— _ awe _ —as my hand settled into the crook of his elbow.

It was curious, I decided, as I looked up at his glowing eyes as he took my bag from my hands and led me purposefully out of the apartment. How could a man such as he, tainted by death and his character a mixture of passion, bitterness and intellect, could be so swayed by such a simple thing. Almost as if he expected me to go running and screaming.

At the door, I fully expected it to remain locked as it had for the last six years. For this man to be trapped inside with me. And for a moment, it didn’t sound so horribly bad. Until my aunt returned and had him killed, that was.

He turned to look down at me, lips pulled into a distasteful frown. The yellow became dark and murky with his mood.  _ Apprehensive.  _ “If you do not wish to see a grotesque sight, it would be best to keep your eyes closed, my dear.”

My jaw set and my eyes hardened. If I was to be free, I refused to look away from the ugly truth. I would face the world head on.

“I’m alright,” I avowed.

He seemed like he wished to argue but decided against it, nodding stiffly. Twisting the door knob, the door swung inward in such an anticlimactic manner that I was almost disappointed. He led me outside, deftly stepping over the bodies of groaning men. Blood was streaking down their faces, covering their bodies and the floor. Inspecting them in an almost detached kind of way, I wondered what was littering the floor. It seemed to be some sort of.. Gore? Black was beginning to hover over them, and I knew if they didn’t get help soon, they would probably die.

I knew they would die… And I didn’t care. Not from the men that had done Camilla’s bidding and kept me trapped.

“What happened to them?” I inquired as I let him lead me away. The faster I put distance between me and that apartment, the better.

Erik smirked down at me, a pretty green swirling over his shoulder.  _ Excited. _ He was like a little boy, hoping to impress and show how cool he was. “Have you ever experienced allergies? Particularly those that make your eye itch? In the moment, nothing matters more than satisfying that need to itch. I simply lengthened that moment… And released all inhibitions.”

Despite the love and compassion I knew my mother would have wanted me to feel for my captors… I felt nothing but pleasure at the vengeance he had extracted on my behalf.

“Those fools deserved to go blind,” he seemed to mutter to himself. I was just barely able to pick up on it. “To see such a lovely creature in pain every day… It serves them right.”


	4. A Moment To Breathe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A breather. The assassin ran away with the shut in princess, but how long will this uneasy peace last?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big, big thank you to everyone who reviewed! It lights up my life when I get to see that others are enjoying this story as much as I've enjoyed writing it.  
> After today, the chapters will be getting much longer- but the trade off is that I'll be figuring out a posting schedule, most likely once a week. Halloween as past and Christmas is only a short ways away-- I have projects to finish before then so it'll be cutting into my writing time.  
> Never fear, however! I will not forget my lovely (silent) readers and (even more lovely) reviewers!  
> (P.S. There's gonna be fluff soon! Gotta work my way up to that M rating!)

I lived an easy life with my mother. A small trailer house in the country that was filled with more love than an empty apartment in the city. Growing up, I’d never questioned why my mother didn’t seem to need to work. I was the center of her world and she was mine. It made sense to spend the days running through the woods like faeries, the nights spent around a campfire. Storytelling, laughter and music filled my childhood.

And then the cancer stole her away so quickly, there wasn’t time to prepare. 

I was placed in a foster home as they looked for next of kin. It took longer than it was expected, allowing me to come to terms with losing my whole world.

The Giry’s were very kind and loving. Every day was one of color and warmth when it should have been dark and cold.

I thought that the colors I could see in each person should have ended with my mother. That everyone around me would become just as dark as I felt.

Mrs Giry’s bright hues of violet begged to differ in her quiet strength. _Wisdom._ She was the wisest person I had ever known. Her daughter, Meg, held the deepest blues. _Loyalty._

I would have stayed with them forever. They weren’t my mother—no one would ever take her place. They held their own place in my heart. A second family I would have done well in.

And then, it ended. A woman had been waiting in the Giry’s living room after school one day. I had just barely started high school, just barely started smiling again. 

She was tall, blonde, prim and proper.

She didn’t give me a choice about where I preferred to be. She only gave me a few moments to gather my things. She didn’t let me say goodbye.

I left behind my town, the Giry’s, and my mother’s grave.

I left behind my freedom.

* * *

I was at my limit.

I wasn’t able to concentrate on how we made it out of the building. I was barely able to put one foot in front of the other, bumping into Erik’s back more than once when he drew up short to avoid some unseen entity.

The fourth time I bumped into him, I didn't have the strength to pull back. Swaying on my feet, I leaned into him to stay upright, my forehead resting on his back. 

I barely registered the gasp, but I could feel how his body tensed-- it had gone from being soft and comfortable under my head to being rigid and harsh. 

He whirled, nearly throwing me to the ground with the sudden movement. I stumbled a step before his hands were wrapped around my upper arms, holding me upright. _“Are you_ trying _to get caught?”_ he hissed under his breath. He blinked, noticing something. "Are you alright?"

I dumbly shook my head, exhaustion pulling on my eyelids and limbs. “I’m—I’m sorry. I’ll try to be more alert, I promise.” I reached up and lightly slapped my cheek. The offending hand was quickly captured, his eyes wide and incredulous. 

“What are you _doing?”_

I blinked, head tilting to the side. “Trying to stay awake.”

In my state, I couldn’t see his moods, or even his aura. With anyone else, I would have felt blind. But his eyes were so open to me, showing all within them, that I didn’t mind. Maybe that was why I continued to grow more sluggish.

Even if I had no real reason to trust this man, I would still take his cool gray over oranges and greens. This man did not have the colors to exploit me.

And if he did, that would be entirely my fault, wouldn’t it? Better to go out by my own choice than someone else’s.

I had decided to trust him. Whether that would be a horrible idea in the end… I supposed I’d find out.

He eyed me, truly taking in my disheveled appearance and weary state. His sharp golden cat’s eyes softened, pulling me closer. “Just a little more. Once we’re safely out of the building, I’ll carry you. You can sleep then, alright?” He shook his head a little, frowning as he looked away from me. “They overworked you, didn’t they?”

“Mmm,” I murmured, sleepily nodding. Singing didn’t help my case either. Normally, I’d have fallen face first into my pillows after a ten year ritual. “Stupid party. Tiring.”

“I see.”

It felt like I’d only taken a few more steps before my feet were suddenly airborne, my body becoming weightless as Erik’s strong arms held me against him.

I was so tired and desperate for gentle human touch that I found myself curling up against him, nuzzling his chest until I found the most comfortable position to lay my head. I let out the softest of sighs, relaxing. 

A small sigh answered mine and I was lost to the gentle sway of his gait.

* * *

I did not want to wake up. I was warm, wrapped up in blankets, and calmed by the sound of a fire cracking in its steady way. It reminded me of all those outdoor fires with my mother. The fire’s scent cloaked the room with such tenderness that I could almost imagine her in the kitchen, cooking up some bacon.

The scent of bacon wafted over me, forcing me to bolt up.

The motion brought the room into focus, bringing me back to where I was, _when_ I was, so quickly that tears filled my eyes and spilled over my cheeks. Rubbing my eyes, I pulled my body out of the bed. I took one step—

And let out a cry as I went tumbling to the floor.

Drums of thunder answered, the door to the room thrust open as a disheveled Erik barreled inside, looking every bit ready to take on the world. He stopped short when he saw me twisted up in my blankets on the floor, no threat around but for the sheets.

I ignored the twists of his emotions as he quickly cycled through them, feeling an immense relief to see him before me. His rollex of emotions settled on a gentle yellow. _Amusement._

“You seem to have.. Woken up on the wrong side of the bed.”

I sputtered at his bad joke, rolling my eyes despite the growing smile on my face. “More like my sheets trying to trip me up.” I shook my head before looking back up at him. “Good morning,” I said shyly. How long had it been since I’d felt that it _was_ a good morning? Ages.

Erik’s answering smile was just as shy as my own, moving to my side to help me get out of my mess of sheets. “Good afternoon,” he replied. “You have been asleep for sixteen hours. I imagine you faced quite the traumatic experience.”

I slowly nodded, agreeing with him as I absentmindedly placed one hand over the sleeve of my bruised wrist. “But it’s over now,” I declared, smiling up at him. “And I smell bacon!”

His visible brow raised at that, lips pulling into a half smile. “It seems I made the correct choice. I thought it would be wise for you to wake soon and prepared you a meal. I require little food, so please inform me when you are hungry.. And what you prefer to eat.”

“I’m not picky,” I quickly informed him. “My diet has always been strictly regulated, so I don’t mind eating… whatever.”

The sheets were separated from me and he offered me a hand to lift me up and onto my feet. I slid my hand into his without questioning it, blinking as I was momentarily blinded by an array of colors too fast to make out. I could see him slam his emotions into a box, eyes cool yellow as he nodded towards a door I’d yet to notice. “Should you wish to wash up and refresh yourself, the bathroom is right through there. You will find your bag and towels inside.”

Following his advice, I excused myself to the bathroom. I stood with my back to the door for a moment, trying to recall the colors I'd seen. Had I _ever_ seen someone so capable of shutting down emotions before? To have that level of control... what _was_ he? I shook my head, unable to determine his mood in that moment. I looked down at my hand, wondering if I should touch him once more.. Just to find out.

I looked up and stilled as another girl looked back at me.

The girl in the mirror wasn’t the same girl from the night before. That girl had been terrified, standing on the edge of a dark hole that threatened to swallow her whole. This girl… She was free. Wild. I watched the girl copy my movements, running a hand through my feral curls. After a moment of trying to get them under control, I realized there was no Camilla here to insult my appearance. No one to yell at me for not making myself look like I’d just come off the runway. 

Life burst into the girl’s eyes at my realization. I looked so much more like that girl from six years ago, before sickness took my mother. I looked almost _happy._

Breaking eye contact with my reflection, I looked around the room. I was immediately drawn to the window behind the freestanding tub. Trees, tall and evergreen, dotted the horizon, hugging the edge of a lake. The water gleamed, looking cool in the afternoon sun. A shower encased in glass was positioned into the wall next to the tub, but I ignored it in favor of the tub. 

Running the water, I looked around, easily finding my bag on the floor nearby. I removed from it my shampoo, conditioner, soap, razor, and brush and found places to put each one. Then I pulled out clean under things, and a dress. I had packed dresses more than anything else—it was easier to pack more of them than worrying about individual pieces that take up more room.

Most of the dresses were either knit or cotton—fabrics that didn’t wrinkle as easily. 

This one was white with a golden pattern on it, fitted bodice, a long skirt and billowing sleeves. It was nowhere near as uncomfortable to wear as the mauve dress from last night and far more modest.

The bath felt luxurious, the heated water doing wonders for my sore muscles. I soaked for a bit before remembering that Erik was waiting somewhere with _cold_ bacon. The thought spurred me into action, sudsing up my hair and body before quickly rinsing.

The bath gurgled loudly as the water drained and I was toweled off and dressed before it finished. I left a towel around my shoulders to catch the dripping water from my hair before it could turn my dress see through and quickly followed the hall to a set of stairs that let out into a beautiful living room.

My nose went to work, quickly leading me to the kitchen where a plate of hash browns, bacon, and eggs waited for me. All hot and letting off steam, despite my bath.

I hesitated at the doorway, fingers fisting into my skirt, as my eyes lighted on his form. He was standing with his back to me at the sink, his stark white shirt spread over his shoulders and tailored precisely to his form. Sleeves rolled up over his forearms, his evening coat was draped on the back of a chair. The sight of him cleaning dishes and being so domestic in such fine clothing made me feel out of place.

“Your meal will grow cold before you are finished staring,” his amused voice whispered in my ear. I jumped, hands clapping over my ears as I looked around myself. Was there a _speaker_ hidden somewhere!? 

He chuckled, the uncovered side of his face looking at me over his shoulder. It was the first time in forever I saw the plum color cut through an aura so strongly. _Mischievous._ He was messing with me!

Looking around again for the speaker but unable to find it, I pulled myself onto the bar stool, pouting at his back.

“How did you do that?” I asked before reaching for the fork to dig in. My eyes lowered to my food, teeth worrying my lip.

“One of my many skills. You cannot expect me to divulge all my mystery after such a short acquaintance, my dear.” He turned, wiping his hands with a dish towel before leaning against the sink. “Is there anything I can get you? A condiment, perhaps?”

I smiled sheepishly at him, eyes hopeful. “Ketchup, maybe? And maple syrup if possible?”

His single brow furrowed just a bit, the motion causing his mask to move as his face wrinkled. I wondered if the mask wasn’t as well fitted, perhaps? “Ketchup, I can understand matches well with potatoes, but maple syrup?” Even as he questioned me, he seemed to make them materialize out of nowhere, presenting them to me with a flourish of his hand.

I grinned happily as I proceeded to drench my hash brows and fried eggs in ketchup and then put a small pool of syrup next to the bacon. “I love it with bacon! It’s a perfect combination of sweet and savory!” I quickly dipped the bacon and took a large bite, my eyes squinting with joy as the flavors exploded in my mouth.

He clicked his tongue a bit as a kettle I hadn’t noticed started to whistle. He turned from me, quickly gathering supplies to tea. “May I make you a cup of tea?” he offered.

I quickly nodded, my bacon disappearing into my stomach. I mixed the eggs and hash browns, creating a mess of yellow yolk, red ketchup, white egg, and brown potatoes. Looking up from my mass of food, I eyed him. Sure, _I_ was sheltered, but even I knew of the joy of maple syrup and bacon! Had he been living under a rock?

It wasn’t long before I could catch a whiff of chamomile tea, the smell causing a fluttering of homesickness in my stomach. 

A tea cup was placed before me just as I was finishing my meal, along with whatever I could think of to put in tea. Murmuring my thanks, I pushed the plate to the side before quickly dropping an entire spoonful of honey into my cup before anyone could stop me. The action caused me to stop short, glancing up at Erik. He made no move to control my sugar intake, instead watching me over the lip of his own cup.

Feeling a little skittish, I added cream with considerable less speed and stirred it a bit before taking a small sip.

My eyes fell closed and I almost felt like I was in a different place, a different life. My mother chatting on the phone in the kitchen to a friend down the street as she placed a cup of tea before me. Holding up a finger, she’d make a funny face—implying how long winded her friend was with a roll of her eyes. And then she’d finally hang up and join me at the kitchen table, drinking tea in companionable silence.

I opened my eyes and the spell was broken, taking me back to the kitchen in a cabin that was probably in the middle of nowhere if the view from my room and bathroom said anything.

Strengthen by this life giving tea Erik had kindly bestowed upon me without even knowing its worth, I finally felt confident enough to ask.

"What happens now?" The question had been rolling around inside me, scared of the unknown.. And of facing that unknown alone. Was I acting childish? Like a child who could not be alone without their parents?

My stomach felt queasy—I couldn’t tell if it was my nerves and anxiety or the greasy bacon that caused it.

I finally looked up at him, inwardly startled by what I saw. It had to be looking into a mirror. The man before me put forth an even outward appearance, almost nonchalant about it, but his emotions _screamed_ otherwise. Anxiety, worry, and unease seemed to eat at the gray canvas, spoiling him. 

"That depends entirely on you, my dear," he answered evenly. I could see the stress of the dark emotion coiling in him even as he seemed so steady. "After you uphold your part of the deal, I can take you to anywhere in the world. Free and safe from those who would control you."

The very thought of separating from this man, who I had already entrusted with my life, so soon was appalling to me. And from the way his emotions twisted into unease and displeasure, I could tell—hope—that he felt the same. 

That hope emboldened me.

"And… if I wanted to stay with you?"

_Shock, awe, joy._ A sympathy of colors swept away the darkness before my eyes faster than I could catalogue. 

And yet the man continued to look entirely stoic, despite his feelings. Did he think he was acting cool? 

"I suppose that could be arranged. We should not remain here, however. It will take me a week to acquire the items that I—we—will need to move."

We. I liked the sound of that. 


	5. Moment Continues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The moment to breathe continues. A shaky acquaintanceship continues to solidify.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a few more things to set up before we can get to the nitty-gritty.

In the wake of realizing I wouldn’t have to leave my… acquaintance? He had called our relationship an acquaintance just a bit ago. For the appreciation I held for him, the word felt almost too tepid. Would this be all there was between us? Weird roommates where one of them had saved the other from her controlling aunt—and potentially killed for it? The twinge of discomfort at that thought had me realizing that it might never be enough for me. That I was far greedier than I’d ever believed.

The uncertainty of our situation—and my sudden desires—made me shy and looking for an escape.

“Can I go explore?” 

I had expected him to leave me to my devices as he had items to prepare, but he surprised me by sticking even closer than I’d expected. 

He guided me outside first, showing me how comfortably we were situated right on the lake, trees enclosing us. Compared to living in the city, trapped in a ‘luxury’ apartment, this was truly living. There was space outside and in the large cabin—a sky so big and unmarred by tall buildings that had me tearing up. And then the vaulted ceilings of the cabin that made me want to spread my arms and sing as loud as I could, letting my voice bounce off the walls.

Was this what freedom felt like? 

We paused in the living room of our tour, Erik’s hand resting on top of a beautiful piano.

“You are allowed to move about as you wish—you are not a prisoner.” He eyed me as he said that, his emotions flickering with a delicate yellow— _ cautious.  _ “Of course, I cannot take you from this place until I have secured the necessary papers and documents—and you and I both know that those who kept you locked up will be anxious to see you returned to your ivory tower.”

The high that I had started soaring on immediately experienced engine trouble, plummeting in a downward spiral. I could feel my body drooping from the thought of being taken back. My head, that had bowed before him, was suddenly tilted up by the barest pressure of a finger under my chin.

I blinked in surprise as he towered over me, suddenly so much closer. The gold of his eyes, one peering from behind the porcelain mask, filled my vision. From this distance, they were less gold and more amber with a bright ring of yellow around his pupil.

They were breathtaking. Emotions came to mind that I could catalogue that color too.  _ Interest. Contentment. Awe. Trusting. _

Somehow, I wished for all those things to be true.

“Perhaps it is time to speak of why you were locked within? With no other way to cry for help but to unleash balloons?”  _ Watchful. Careful. _

It was hard to swallow. I was suddenly bashful, both by his proximity and by the humiliation I felt at being so helpless. A true damsel in distress.

“It would help to keep you safe.”

I blinked at him, feeling such a sense of reassurance. A similar phrase had been spoken to me before—

_ “We have to keep you safe, flower. If your family doesn’t protect you, who will? Only your family loves you.” _

—and yet, I had never felt the comfort I did from Erik’s utterance. 

“..Will you protect me?”

The question had cost me. What would I do if he realized how much trouble I would bring him? Would he leave me to my fate? Terror like nothing I’d ever known before surged. 

He didn’t respond. He stood, staring down at me, his finger still under my chin—to force me not to look away. With only his eyes before me, I was blind to his emotions. As the seconds slipped past us, I cursed inwardly. How stupid was I? Of course I couldn’t ask that of a man I had  _ just  _ met! He probably didn’t know how to deal with me, didn’t know how to extract himself from the troublesome—

“Yes.”

Relief swelled. And then—

“Are you sure?”

I shot myself in the foot.

A bark of a laugh left him, the sudden action forcing him to take a step from me. Our connection severed as his hand fell to his side, another took its place. Colors swam into view, overlapping the gray of his aura.  _ Amusement. Determination. Enjoyment. _

“Are you going to try to change my mind, my dear? That seems quite counterproductive.”

My fingers bunched into the fabric of my dress, twisting it a bit as I forced myself to keep looking at him. “You said it yourself. They’ll want to return me to my prison.” I bit my lip. “And they might hurt you to do it. I don’t want that.”

He blinked at me, all the emotion his outward appearance would show of the party his emotions were having. Each color seemed to be a wave, beating against him as they fought for superiority. _Shy._ _Gleeful. Timid. Delighted. Unsure… Affectionate._

Ignoring the last one as it made me feel things I’d never felt before, overall, I would say he was _Happy._ Even with the dash of uncertainty in his emotions. From the tension in his shoulders and the complete lack of expression, I’d say he hadn’t felt that way in a long time.

He cleared his throat and seemed to recenter himself. His emotions settled on  _ Fond  _ as his eyes beheld me with a certain softness to them.

“Never fear for me. Others have attempted, but here I stand before you. Whole and healthy.” A dark color marred the positive emotions and I frowned.  _ Self-loathing.  _ I didn’t like seeing it.

The color drove me to reach out, grasping his hand. His fingers remained in their position, didn’t curl around mine as was a typical reaction. The color vanished, but I didn’t know if I liked what appeared instead.  _ Shock. Awe. Skittish.  _ His shoulders had the minute reaction of curling inwards like he felt the need to protect himself… from me.

“I don’t know what my aunt is capable of. I do know that she will probably not stop until she has me again. That.. might be extremely dangerous for you.” I looked up into those bright eyes, grimacing at the very thought. “You’re the only one to ever help me. You mean.. a lot to me. I don’t want to be the reason for your pain.”

His eyes were wide like he couldn’t believe the words coming out of my mouth. Not for the first time, I had to question what he was used to. He always seemed to expect people’s disdain, even if there’s no logical reason for it.

After a bit, I realized he was just going to stare at me dumbly—like I’d fried his brain. The silence was getting awkward.

Giving his hand a quick squeeze, I released him—he still hadn’t held my hand back so it was remarkably simple to pull away. His hand spasmed just a bit in my retreat, making me bite my lip and wonder if I shouldn’t have touched him at all. I moved around him, trying to portray myself as more flippant than usual as my hands went behind my back. I took a few steps down the hall. “So, you should probably decide your boundaries. If things ever get too serious... Leave me and get yourself to safety.” I looked over my shoulder, expecting him to be further back, but he’d stalked after me, his steps silent. “They would never kill me—I’m too important. They would think you’re expendable.”

He stared down the nose of his mask at me, eyes narrowing. His moods had swung, no longer as light and happy. They were more dark and oppressive. Why was I not concerned about that? 

“There will be no abandoning you to your fate, I assure you,” he said tersely. “Am I understood?”

It was a no-nonsense kind of tone, one that made my stomach flutter just a bit. “Yes, Erik,” I smiled happily. “It’s still an open invitation, though.”

“There will be no need for that,” he ground out.

The rest of the tour consisted of him being sullen and me happily following him about. It didn’t escape my notice the way he would gauge my reactions to rooms and ensure he was never walking too quickly.

The cabin seemed equipped for everything. A music recording studio, a home theater complete with a tower of DVDs, video games and their corresponding consoles, an art room, and finally the library.

I was in awe as we stepped in, overwhelmed by the sheer number of books. I only had a small pile I had been allowed to read before… It was like finally coming home. Finally being in a place I was allowed to simply  _ be.  _

“Um, Erik?”

He looked over at me from a bookshelf, raising his brow. “Yes? Is it not to your liking?”

“No, no! It is… Amazing,” I sighed, my voice reverent like I was in a room with a god and not old books. “There are more books here than I’ve seen in…  _ years.  _ Would it be okay to read…  _ whatever  _ in here? Or do you have certain ones that are off-limits?” A thought occurred to me, about the music room. “Can I also listen to some music later? I don’t even know if you’ll have anything I’ll know.. It’s been a long time since I’ve listened to music that even had  _ lyrics. _ ”

Lyrics could be too liberating. Songs about freedom and having the power to choose obviously wasn’t something I could be allowed to have. But I would hum songs I remembered from when I was younger and less restrained. A small rebellion.

Silence reigned as a weight in the room descended. His emotions came on so fast and strong that I knew with a surety he’d been able to assume what my life had been like up until now...

I had trouble breathing as I became overwhelmed by his emotions. Sharp colors seemed to blind my eyes— _ appalled, outraged, distressed _ — threatening to wash over my head. It took a moment before I could start cataloguing what he was even  _ saying,  _ much less doing.

Pacing. The man had started pacing, body looking tightly bound and ready to pounce on something—on me, I realized with a start when he whirled towards me. I was stock-still when he reached me—even if my legs could have moved, I don’t know if they would have—hands holding my upper arms in a grasp that was becoming familiar. He looked into my eyes, never before so serious and impassioned as he was at this moment. Twin fires of gold blazed into me and seemed to brand my very soul with their intensity. I felt my cheeks burn at how close he stood over me once more, his tall height towering. A whiff told me he smelled of ink, some kind of incense, and cinnamon.

It was the best smell.

This felt so much more intimate than before when he placed a single finger under my chin. His hands on my arms were firm, tethering me to him. I locked my knees, determined not to sway into him, to melt into his strength.

He didn’t seem to notice how red I was, the flush traveling down my neck and to my shoulders. I could feel my traitorous body give me away. Thank goodness his strong emotions meant he was less observant.

“You will  _ never again  _ be so censored. Any information or media, books, music, movies, games— _ anything— _ tell me. You shall not want for anything while you are with me. That is my promise.”

The vow he made resonated so deeply with me that my eyes watered. I had been crying so often lately, there seemed to be no end in sight. I nodded, offering him a watery smile. “You don’t know how much that means to me.”

One hand ghosted to my face as if he intended to brush aside my tears before he  _ flung  _ himself from me. 

_ Horrified. Mortified. Flustered. _

__ His emotions barreled through me and for a moment I felt rejection, hot and bitter as my stomach dropped. I pushed through the feeling quickly, focusing on his own emotions. Why would he be so terrified after touching me? Humiliated by it? 

Maybe... Maybe he regretted saving me.

Inwardly, I shook myself. That didn’t make sense. He wouldn’t feel so much righteous fury at the injustices I’d suffered if he  _ regretted  _ it. Then what was it?

He pulled down on his suit coat, straightening the already perfect garment—a habit I was starting to pick up on. His emotions always managed to recede after quickly making himself presentable once more. Almost like he was hiding them like one might shove everything into a closet when you have someone suddenly coming over, out of sight and out of mind.

He made some kind of excuse and then quickly disappeared from my sight. I stared after him for some time—almost like I expected him to have a change of heart and burst back in with his overbearing mood swings.

I found myself smiling. He was so very different from everyone I knew, his feelings so… pure. He was a fascinating puzzle I would see through to the end.

Better sooner, rather than later. Nothing good would come of shoving his emotions into his closet. At one point or another, he was going to meet his limit… And then everything would come toppling out.

So for now, I decided as I turned to eye the shelves of beautiful books, I will say he is shy. Optimistic of me, but it beats assuming he just might… dislike me.

* * *

I sat at the kitchen bar, watching him cook with the precision of a trained assassin. With the skills he welded as he chopped and sliced, I could only come to the conclusion that he was either a master chef or an assassin. After the little poisoning trick of my aunt’s guards, there was no way I’d believe him to be the former.

He chopped up the bell peppers, red onion, tomato, and cucumber so quickly that I would miss things if I blinked. What if he was a chef turned assassin? 

I swung my feet and rested my head in my hands as I imagined his backstory. He ran the best restaurant in the city but had made multiple enemies. Maybe he didn’t give way to the mob! So the mob boss had half of his face burnt with fire or acid and Erik swore vengeance. And now that he’s finished avenging himself and the life he lost, he finds he has nothing to do but save damsels in distress.

I went from giggling softly to myself to being completely sullen and thinking I needed to do a once over of the cabin. Make sure he’s not hiding any other damsels…

“What has you so occupied, my dear?”

He wasn’t even looking at me, but somehow he knew something was up.  _ Curiosity  _ and  _ concern  _ painted him. 

“You haven’t told me much about yourself, so I’ve been filling in the blanks myself.”

He drizzled vegetables with something before moving over to the chicken he’d already cut up and started adding ingredients to turn it into a yellow-orange creamy mixture. The seasonings he added seemed to float in the air, giving me a moment of bliss at the heavenly smell of it.

I could tell that gone where the days of only having strictly necessary meals— mostly soups, salads, vegetables, and small amounts of meat. My mouth was already salivating.

“Oh?” His tone was humored as amusement splashed across him. “Pray tell what you have conjured.”

I tilted my head as I watched him slide everything into the preheated oven and then started tidying. I’d tried to offer my help earlier, but he’d immediately shooed me away. I didn’t think he’d let me clean either. 

“Well, obviously you’re an assassin.”

He stilled at my words, ugly emotions erupting in a way I wish I hadn’t caused.  _ Unease. Anxiety. Dread.  _ Did he worry how I might react to him being that way?

I went about smoothing his feathers, putting as much nonchalance into it as I could. “Which works out for me—if you weren’t I wouldn’t be here. Free. But I decided that before you were an assassin, you were a chef. A good one. And that made people jealous.” I skirted around the idea of how his face might have been damaged. I knew not to poke him there, even in jest. “So they ruined your restaurant and you swore to get your revenge.”

As I spoke, his emotions soothed though his movements were largely mechanical as he finished tidying. After he wiped down the counters, he took out a large bowl I hadn’t noticed before along with some flour.

“You are at least right in one of your estimations, though I have done little to hide it.” His words were clinical and cold. Everything about him spoke factual and logical. He would have been explaining the pathagorem theory rather than himself with how disinterested he seemed. He covered the counter in flour, turning to the stove to turn a burner on and place a cast iron griddle over it. He came back to stand before me, pulling a ball of dough from the bowl and slapping it onto the counter. He went to work rolling it out, working diligently with the dough to make sure none of it stuck anywhere. 

“I have taken up the mantle of a professional killer on occasion.” He looked up at me, eyes sharp as they pierced me. “I am, however,  _ retired. _ ” His lips twitched, as if he knew himself that it didn’t excuse his past.

I shrugged at him.

_ Baffled. Bemused.  _ “I tell you I have killed and you  _ shrug _ ?”

I scrunched up my face in thought. “I mean, the idea isn’t great. Thinking of you being the cause of someone’s death… Did you ever kill innocents?”

“I’m not a  _ barbarian. _ ”  _ Insulted.  _

“Bad people, then?”

“The worst.”

I shrugged again. “Call me naive if you want, but there’s…” I paused, face darkening. “There’s at least one person I would kill if given the chance.”

Vladimir. I shuddered.

A sizzle pulled me out of my reverie, looking up to see him watching me from over his shoulder. He had put a flat piece of dough on the cast iron, frying it. It made it balloon up, looking soft and fluffy. My eyes flickered back to Erik, taking in the way his white shirt was stretched over his shoulders, sleeves rolled up not unlike breakfast. A trickle of orange frayed his gray— _ worry. _

I flashed a large grin that I didn’t feel and he didn’t pry.

By the time he finished making the bread and set them under a dish towel to retain their heat, it was time to pull the meats and veggies out of the oven. They released a heavenly scent, bathing the kitchen in their richness. His sliced and shredded condiments (tomato, cucumber, lettuce) on the side, he quickly prepared my portion. He piled chicken, peppers, onions, lettuce, tomato, cucumber, and a special white sauce on it and then handed it to me. After I stared at it a bit, not sure how to eat it, he explained that I fold it like a taco.

“Oh! Sorry, I’ve never seen this before.”

He looked at me blankly, like I’d just made his mind forcefully reboot. 

“..I was informed that the best meal after an emotionally draining experience is comfort food. As I am not positive what  _ your  _ comfort food might be, I decided to prepare that person’s preferred comfort food. If it is not to your standards, I can prepare something else.”

“What’s it called?” I asked, reaching for the food carefully. The bread was thick and felt sturdy. This wouldn’t be like the time I had a taco and the bottom fell out! My mom had laughed so hard at me and I’d been forced to just eat taco salad instead. After that, I’d sworn to never eat hard-shelled tacos again.

“Shawarma.”

I took a bite and had to close my eyes as I took in all the flavors. It was so rich and fresh tasting that it overwhelmed me. 

I loved it.

After finishing my bite, I grinned up at him. “It’s delicious!!”

He nodded, face blank though his emotions  _ sang _ .  _ Delighted. Pleasure. _

I tucked into the food with a renewed relish. If it made him happy to see me enjoy his food, I would!

* * *

He played the piano for me that evening.

He was masterful at tickling the ivories and I found myself chained to his every movement. It was like the notes seemed to open a new world for him, and so effortlessly it seemed. The music he wrapped around me was so comfortable, that even if I was exhausted, I still did it.

I sang for him.

I had to keep my end of the bargain, after all. Until it seemed like he no longer wished me to do it, I would sing. Even if it only left me little time left for myself. This man, so unsteady and yet immoveable, deserved every bit of appreciation I could give him.

The song I weaved for him was simple, a mixture of sounds following the slowing sounds of the piano. I didn’t need words.

We didn’t need words.

It was no surprise when he passed out at the piano, overcome by the entire procedure. I wondered how my gift was helping him… Something must be happening with him unable to stay awake for the process.

Dizziness came over me and I quickly settled myself into a nearby chair. I closed my eyes against the world’s onslaught, my vision going lopsided and dark at the edges.

* * *

We settled into a strange kind of routine. Days were spent apart and together, almost always in companionable silence. Like we were still growing comfortable with the other, afraid of overstepping bounds and boundaries. While it was comfortable—he would work on something or another, occasionally leaving the room to make calls, and I would usually read—it quickly became clear to me that I wanted… more. More talking, more connecting as two human beings would in enclosed spaces. 

Meals were shared, though I never seemed to see him actually  _ eat _ . Drink tea, yes, but never eat. It was starting to worry me just a little.

Evenings were joined in music, a true joy and comfort. Erik still refused to sing with me, but the music of his piano joined with my voice, bringing me happiness even as I gave him a part of me. And when he would understandably pass out for a bit after each session, I would be there to make sure he didn’t fall face first into the piano.

A thought suddenly occurred to me after several days spent like this, blinking up at him owlishly from my novel.

I may be an idiot.

I didn’t know  _ where  _ I was!

Erik had sensed my stare and looked up from his work, brow raising as he was dyed in confusion.

“Um... Silly question,” I began.

“There are no silly questions,” he replied, almost like a knee jerk reaction.

“Oh. Um. Okay. Erm... Where are we right now?”

_ Mischievous.  _ I was not going to get the answer I wanted. “Why, in the living room, my dear. Oh my, do you need to get your head checked?”

I huffed, rolling my eyes. “You and I both know that’s not what I meant, Erik. Where are we? Geographically?”

He smirked a little bit too quickly.  


At least I was an idiot making her own choices.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think that was kind of fluffy? Tell me what you think! (Had to cut this chapter in half because it was getting closer to 9k in the end... A little too long. Next chapter will be soon~)


	6. A Harsh Reality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nightmares threaten to become real.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings: Attempted rape (in dream sequence). I'm getting closer to needing that mature rating. (Can't help that I tend to write on the more wholesome side it seems! My dark plans are being messed with by Erik wanting to look cool.)

_ Canada. Ontario.  _ He had situated us in a secure place with enough supplies to last a few months, on an island in the middle of a lake. About forty acres of heavily wooded terrain, he assured me it was heavily fortified and that I was more than welcome to explore it, so long as I brought him with me.

The cold weather had me staying in, however. I was definitely not prepared for a Canadian spring with my thin dresses and flats. I much preferred sitting in front of the fire with tea and a good book.

There was peace in this cabin so detached from everything I had ever known. To know that I could do, say, eat… I had freedom over myself in a way I never had before.

And then that peace was shattered.

* * *

I opened my eyes and found myself in a room  _ entirely  _ too familiar. Not because it was the room in Erik’s charming cabin. It was my bedroom in the city. In  _ Camilla’s  _ apartment.

No… No, no no no. 

I went to bolt up, to escape, to find Erik. I couldn’t be trapped here, this couldn’t be real—

Chains hissed in my ear. I wasn’t able to move. I struggled, whipping my head to find my hands and legs chained to the bed. My breathing started coming out in hisses that the back of my mind  _ knew  _ was hyperventilating. I was bound, taken back by my aunt. 

_ She will probably not stop until she has me again.  _ Words I had spoken to Erik, words I had feared more than anything else coming true.

I yanked and suddenly my head snapped in the opposite direction, pain lacing my cheek with the gentle throb I was accustomed to. Slowly, my head turned back, finding Camilla standing over me. Tall, blond, domineering, and sneering.

A sadistic smile curled her lips in an ugly smile as she took my face brutally in her hand. She squeezed,  _ hard _ , her smile growing wider as a flicker of hurt showed in my expression. “It seems the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree,” she growled, shoving my head into the bed. “Thought you would be like your father and run, hmm?”

My heart clenched at the mention of my father. It was always only in moments like this one—sometimes bloody, always painful—when she spoke of him. The evil woman knew it would hurt me. She always knew how to hurt me.

“How did that go for you?” Her look became knowing. Too close, impossible to see her emotion, but I knew from experience exactly what it would be.  _ Spiteful. Hatred. Resentment. Loathing. Disgust. _

__ “Did you think you would get to ride off with your prince charming? Live a long and happy life?”

She drew closer, eyes flickering to the other side of my room that was out of my line of sight. Something there gave her a sick joy. “Tell me, Christine, where is your prince?”

_ No. _

My stomach would have emptied itself at the words had I the ability. It dropped with such force that it nearly ejected itself. There’s no way.

She slowly started forcing my head to turn towards whatever she’d looked at. I tried to fight her, forcing my head in the opposite direction. If I didn’t see it, it wasn’t real. When that didn’t work and she overpowered me, I screwed my eyes shut. 

She was never one to lose, however.

Forcing my eyes open, I watched my worst fear realized.

Blood pooled, soaked up by the carpet was turning brown as it circled around a slumped body. I didn’t need his mood swings or his gentle gray aura to know it was him. I didn’t need the mask that was lying on the ground, abandoned, either. 

I gaped at that body as I realized I could take in minute details about his clothing, no longer hindered by the aura or mood.

Tears were falling down my face before I even realized I was crying.

“This is why you never should have left,” Camilla whispers in my ear as a hand runs down my face. It’s a cruel remake of affection, an empty movement of her hand. “He’s dead because of you.”

I heard a door opening and shut, but I couldn’t see who came in. I can’t stop looking at Erik, trying to will him to stand. To make good on his promise, to take me from here. He promised to protect me.

His body was devoid of movement, of color. 

Camilla drew back from me, obviously frustrated not to get the reaction she wanted. She and someone else walk into my view of Erik, obscuring him. I’m forced to watch as Camilla embraces a younger man, locking lips passionately as if they were at the Eiffel tower and not in a bedroom next to a chained up girl and a dead body. A sob escapes me. Erik is dead?

Everything in me rebelled at the idea. He couldn’t be dead. I had so much…

The couple drew back, Camilla throwing an annoyed look at me. 

“So?” 

The masculine voice forced my eyes to snap to the man, feeling even more dead inside at the sight of Raoul standing there like it was natural. Natural to be kissing my aunt one moment and then to leer at me like a juicy piece of meat.

“Still a virgin,” Camilla pouted up at him, fingers sliding down his chest. “She’s all yours.”

The part of me that had stayed strong, that had persevered and  _ escaped _ , shattered.

The answering smile was debauched. He turned her and slapped her on the butt as he shooed her out. “You aren’t about to watch, are you?”

It was  _ sickening.  _ They were laughing, teasing, bantering. Making light of  _ Raoul,  _ sweet Raoul who had been tainted by the world,  _ raping  _ me.

It all became too much to bear the moment the doors were closed and Camilla had disappeared down the hall. Everything was becoming fragmented.

Movement on the bed, the feeling of it dipping under his weight. Hands sliding down my form, grasping, touching. I screamed, thrashed against the chains, bucked at the weight on top of me. It wasn’t right,  _ he  _ wasn’t right!

My clothing was gone.  _ Where did it go!? _

It was like he had eight hands, each grasping and pulling. Huffing in my ear, growling, grunting. 

And then through it all…

_ “..tine!” _

__ A voice.

_ “Christine!!” _

A beautiful honey voice calling me.

Like cold water had been dumped on me, my eyes shot open. Darkness suffocated me. I couldn’t tell who was there with me—Camilla? Raoul?

And then—

Two pricks of golden light blinked at me in the darkness.

Surging forward, there was a clatter as I tumbled out of bed, my arms locked around Erik’s neck. Words were bubbling out of me, an incoherent mess as my mind was yet to be fully released from the terror I’d just experienced.

We fell to the floor, my arms firmly around him with no intention of letting go, sobbing loudly into his chest.

I don’t know how long we stayed like that before I finally felt his arms wrap around me, soothing and reassuring in the way he clung to me just as tightly.

My mind was slowly mending and coming to the understanding that it was nothing more than a  _ bad  _ dream, a term that felt too gentle for how lucid and terrifying it felt. When my cries were less sob and more sniffle, that honey voice spoke again.

“What has upset you so, my dear?” His voice was tense, frayed. I forced myself to believe it wasn’t because he was uncomfortable with me, just caught off guard. 

“...died.”

“Hmm?”

The words were hard to come out, my voice shredded from the screaming I’d no doubt done. “They killed you.”

His hand started moving in soothing circles. “I would like to see them try.”

I shuddered at the thought, pulling back to look up at him. “No! I don’t want them to touch you, see you. I  _ never _ want to experience… You promised to protect me… You died…”

His arms tightened around me, reading more into what I said that I’d expected him to. “...What did they do in your dream?”

I shoved my head against his chest, shaking my head. The action caused me to nuzzle against him, the sensation pleasant. What happened in my dream was embarrassing, shameful. It had become so vague at the end from lack of actual  _ experience  _ that I knew it hadn’t actually happened in the dream…

It was an ugly reality, however. It would be my future if they ever caught me.

“Christine.” 

His voice was firm, rough. Like he had spoken through clenched teeth. I burrowed further into his chest.

“What. Happened.”

I murmured into his chest, the fabric of his shirt muffling the ugly word. He shouldn’t have been able to hear it, but his body went rigid. Arms holding me felt almost brittle, like a little pressure and they would snap right off.

Slowly, he pulled me back from his chest and I let my head fall as humiliation coursed through me. The finger under my chin, gentle and kind, threw the way my aunt had on multiple occasions grabbed my face in sharp contrast. His eyes searched mine in the dark and I knew in that moment that he could see a lot better than I could. “Christine…” His voice was gentle, as if he was approaching a small child. Somehow I knew what he wanted to ask.

I saved him the trouble. He had already seen too much, had guessed even more.

“I have not… I am a virgin.” I cast my eyes away from him, feeling sick. “My aunt was auctioning off my virginity… the night we met.” My eyes closed, brows furrowing. 

A hiss and then he was gone. No longer sitting with me on the ground, no longer holding me. I heard his footsteps, already across the hall.

“Erik?” I hated the way my voice sounded so small, so broken. 

“We’re leaving. Now.”

It took no time at all to be bundled up in blankets and placed on a boat with my go bag at my feet. From the time he’d left me on the floor to when we’d settled in the boat, he hadn’t spoken a word to me. It was too dark to see his emotions. I was in the dark in more ways than one.

The same dark feeling that surfaced in my dream the moment I realized Erik was dead reappeared, wrapping around my stomach like a serpent. Without the comfort of knowing his emotions, my darker thoughts shouldered past the optimistic ones. They held more weight now.

Had he entirely changed his mind now that he knew what my family had intended? Did he no longer wish to protect me?

Was I to somehow survive on my own? How long would I last before I was dragged back?

The boat had docked when I finally spoke. Erik’s back was to me, tying up the boat. “...Erik? I—I don’t know where we’re going… But if you’ve changed your mind or something, instead of letting me be caught eventually would you… Just kill me? You can make it painless, right?”

He whirled on me, his eyes the only dots of color I could make out in his greyed out form. “ _ Excuse me?” _

__ “I—I—This is all so sudden and I don’t know what’s going on, I just thought it would be better—”

_ “I know you didn’t just say your  _ death  _ will be better.” _

__ He was angry. That was the sound his voice made when he was upset, the words so sharp it felt like someone could wield his sentences as weapons if they didn’t do enough mental damage.

“Then talk to me! What am I supposed to think if you uproot me the moment you hear of my nightmare? You’re acting like you want me gone!”

I think he rubs his face, the yellow lights going out for a moment as his grey form moves just a bit. And then I feel him wrap his arms around me, lifting me and effortlessly dismounts the boat and begins striding forward. He didn’t put me down, clasping me against his chest, until we reached a dark car. He puts me in and buckles me up before he’s sliding into his seat. He doesn’t speak until the car is moving and his hands are tight on the steering wheel. 

“I do not want you gone.” His voice is quiet. Constrained. “It is the opposite, in fact.”

“Then why—”

“Because I am at a disadvantage at the lodge. I do not have access to my… base.”

“Why does that—”

“Did you think, after hearing what your family has done—what they were  _ planning  _ to do, that I would just sit on my ass and wait for an invitation?”

I blinked at him, his words continuing to push aside all my negative worries. 

“No. I am going to make their lives  _ hell _ before I send them there.”

He glanced at me, as if expecting me to reject. Something passed through us, an understanding of sorts. I knew that if I said no, he’d swallow his complaints. He might even be willing to run with me from my aggressors so long as I wished for it.

I offered him a small smile.

“Okay.”

* * *

It was very late when we left the cabin, and while I tried to stay awake—to keep Erik company, to help him not fall asleep too—I struggled in vain. Soon after starting the drive, Erik started humming. I had never heard him hum, much less sing, and I knew as I started dozing off that I would have to hear him sing eventually. It was inhuman with its brilliancy like an ethereal being had descended to save me, protect me.

It wasn’t farfetched.

Sleep came far too easy in his presence, and this time it was without nightmares. His humming wrapped around me like the warmth of a loved one, soothing all my fears away.

Dawn brought an entirely different place, with it an entirely different feeling.

I awoke to a gentle vibration in my limbs, like someone was trying to gently rock me. It was a weird sensation, and I stayed still for a while trying to place it. Opening my eyes, I was met with a long room, other chairs around me. It was like everyone had their own space, complete with a tv, ample legroom, and other comforts. I couldn’t place myself for the life of me until I turned my head just slightly and caught sight of a window. The view was unlike any I had ever known.

Cotton clouds below, and in the distance where they met the sky was gold that faded into a beautiful pink. A sliver of the moon winked at me, like a knowing smile. 

Flying. We were in a plane.

I knew of them, of course, but my mother had never been able to afford more than a few road trip vacations. I had never even been inside an airport before. And when there  _ was  _ money for flights… Well, Camilla would never have brought me with her. The taste of freedom might have lead to me wanting  _ more. _

The knowledge that I had finally done something so  _ daring _ , so against  _ everything  _ my aunt had forced me into was  _ liberating. _

“Awake, Sleeping Beauty?”

His voice possessed more magnetism in it than the new and wonderful views outside, pulling my head towards him. 

He was seated in a comfortable chair directly next to mine, and I stared at him longer than necessary as I catalogued his color. The amount of relief I felt at no longer being blind was heaven. 

Gentle colors swirled in him, blues and yellows mixing to become green.  _ Calm. Content. Happy. _ Colors that gave me peace of mind like nothing else. I leaned back in my seat, drawing my legs up as I took it in. As I watched, the edge of yellow became dyed with red, mixing to become orange.  _ Nervous. _

Blinking, I took the man in, ignoring the color. He had a gentle smile on his face but as I stared, he became a little more rigid, the hands on his knees clenching. 

I quickly beamed at him, finally replying to up him at ease, hopefully. “Good morning, Erik. Did you sleep at all?”

His emotions settled—my words had done just the trick. “As I believe I have mentioned to you before, I require very little sleep.”

My lips twisted at that. I was worried he was mistreating himself. “When you say very little… How little are we talking?” 

“A few hours at most. It is nothing to concern yourself over.”

I felt my lips pulling into a pout. “I don’t think so, mister. You need more sleep than that to be healthy and stable.” I knew a thing or two about that. That particular subject was something my aunt didn’t mind supplying books about. Keeping me healthy and stable meant good things for her, after all.

He shrugged me off and I felt a sting in my chest as he changed the subject. “Are you hungry? You slept through our flight to Vancouver and we still have several hours before we reach Taiwan.”

He didn’t wait for me to respond, clicking a button. A stewardess appeared at his side and they spoke in a language I didn’t recognize before she turned and disappeared.

I was having a hard time coming to terms with the fact that I had somehow  _ slept  _ through an entire flight. I couldn’t help but feel a little sullen that my first ever flight was spent sleeping.

How lame.

* * *

Maneuvering through Taipei’s airport was more difficult than I expected. I followed behind Erik with a hand on the back of his coat as I pulled the wheeled luggage Erik had somehow procured. The number of people around us was lessened by the late hour, but it was still overwhelming the way the crowd’s color swirled around, flashing dangerously. 

My eyes flickered back to Erik’s back the moment his emotions— _ Determination. Contentment— _ changed. Harsh colors swirled in him—red, yellow, orange, purple—clashing and throwing me off.  _ Anger. Anxious. Startled. Disgust. _

What had happened? 

I only had a moment to wonder before he was turning on his heel, pulling me and our luggage suddenly into a little alcove. A door handle jabbed into my back uncomfortably as he stood over me, using his form to hide me away. He bent, voice and breath falling against my ear in a way that felt  _ far  _ too intimate.

“We are being followed,” he hissed. “And not by just anyone.”

I could feel my blood drain in terror. Who had found me? Why had I been so nonchalant about all of this, forgetting about how dangerous just  _ waltzing  _ around would be?

“Dearest Christine, would you like to explain  _ why  _ the  _ Russians  _ are coming after you? I know  _ I  _ haven’t done anything to piss them off. Lately.”

I felt my face go pale. “It—uh—must have something to do with my aunt’s business? There was a man,” I shuddered just thinking of the man and glanced down at my wrist. It was a dark hue of purple. “Vladimir. I met him... The night you saved me.”

He caught my look, his own bright orbs following the trail to my wrist. There was a sudden splash of color as his jaw clenched and his grey canvas was almost entirely washed out by bright red— _ rage. _ He reached out to me, all the control in the world despite the raging inferno just beneath the surface. His hand was gentle, kind, as it gathered up my bruised wrist. His cool touch felt comfortable against the warmth of my battered skin. It was so different from the last touch I had suffered there.

“..The purple dress.”

I blinked up at him, focusing on his half porcelain face and the delicate pressure on my wrist to keep me grounded and from falling into the depths of my panic attack. I could still feel the sick feeling swirl in my gut from that ghastly man. “Yes?”

“He saw you. In the purple dress.”

“Ah, yes.”

“...I will kill him.”

“..Okay?” Was it bad that I felt pleased? I smiled up at him, my uninjured hand reaching up for his shoulder to give it a small squeeze. In this stance, it was almost like we were pausing in the middle of a dance, and not hiding from the Russians. “Don’t… Um, if it’s not too much to ask for, don’t make it easy on him. He should suffer a little, right?”

That’s when I saw it. The heavy red of his mood started to recede as his eyes grew softer. Awed, I watched as the red swirled, making way for  _ pink. _

He pulled back from me quickly, as if he was worried to let me see something he didn’t even know I  _ could  _ see. Straightening up and smoothing his already perfect suit, turned away to gather our luggage. “You are quite right, my dear. And so he shall.”

Even as he tried to compose himself, I knew what I had seen.

And my heart rose with such fervor in my chest that I knew I held the beginnings of such a feeling as well. How could I not towards my savior?

_ Love.  _

I cleared my suddenly too tight throat, fingers clenching and unclenching with the need to do  _ something _ after he’d moved from my grasp. “So, what now?” I asked, unsure and worried.

He threw me a smirk, my bag now attached to his and then reached a hand out to me.  _ Mischievous. Vengeful.  _ “What I do best. We become phantoms to take your revenge.”

In spite of everything, I couldn’t help the giddiness that rose in me as I slipped my hand in his. He took it and slipped my hand in his pocket, patting it twice as if to silently convey for me to keep it there. He proceeded to pull out a phone, typing rapidly into it as he walked out from our hiding place with the grace of a caged jaguar. I stayed in step with him far easier without the luggage weighing me down and he seemed to do even better with the extra baggage.

There were moments we’d randomly change course and use others as shields as we made our way through the airport. I didn’t see any people I would have known to be Russian, and I was once again grateful I had Erik with me.

Just as we’re about to make it to our gate, there’s a sound of a scuffle behind us. I glanced back for a moment before Erik quickly pulls me away.

“What happened?”

“Our friends are currently being detained, it seems.” His smirk was self-satisfied. “How unfortunate that they will miss our flight.”

“It’s a good thing you’re on my side.”

“Indeed.”

* * *

Erik, so reassured and confident, was extremely attractive. He seemed to always be ten steps ahead of everyone else, passports appearing from nowhere and disguises pulled out of a secret compartment in our luggage. 

It was a relief knowing I just needed to keep up for those brief moments of moving through the airport. I don’t think I could have managed otherwise. I was so tired even though I spent most of the time on the flights sleeping. It just never seemed enough.

Of course, I knew what was happening, the reason why my feet would drag and my brain would lag. I may have retained my youth on the outside.. But I was  _ old  _ on the inside.

You couldn’t very well expect a  _ seventy-year-old _ who wasn’t in great shape in the first place to be much help in a situation like this.

Maybe I should have insisted on staying in the cabin. It was perfectly hidden away and I could have survived on my own for a few weeks for Erik to settle things. It wasn’t right, letting him do everything for me, but it would be better than me holding him back.

Each hop had Erik looking more and more concerned, his aura rioting in a way that old me he was on the verge of something. They were tracking us, even with all the effort he put into typing something into his phone. I had caused this bold and dauntless man to be backed into a corner.

The pilot announced our descent to Milan, his words punctuated by Erik’s unease and bouncing leg. It felt like the orange of his anxiety was seeping into me, dying me as well. 

There had been little to no contact between us since that night he woke me from my nightmare. How long had it been? Days, weeks? How many flights had we been on? I couldn’t even keep track of where we’d been. It was all becoming such a blur of luxury and first class flights.

I reached for him, wishing to smooth that color away, and settled my hand on his knee. His entire form became harsh and firm, inflexible and tense. He became a statue under my hand.

His head whipped up to me, golden eyes ablaze as they set on me. The anxiety seemed to relent for just a moment before it became… disbelief?

“I’m sorry,” I murmured, squeezing his knee lightly. What could I say? This is all my fault.

He was already shaking his head, not willing to hear anything else I might have said. “Do not apologize for other’s sins. You cannot control them.” His hand reached for me, slowly. Caution and unease colored him, like he wasn’t sure if his touch would be accepted. I made myself completely still waiting. His fingers were gentle, smoothing my hair back from my face and then running down a lock of hair. It sprung from his fingers instead of twisting around him like I’d hoped.

I wished he wasn’t wearing gloves. The desire to feel his fingers—in any capacity—startled me, painting my cheeks red.

The color he held now was lavender, a gentle mixture of purple and pink.  _ Affection.  _ The color nearly made me cry with how sweet it was. His eyes were just as gentle and kind, soft at the edges as he watched me. His hand reached up again, the back of his fingers barely brushing against my cheek in caress.

“Leave the worry to me. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

* * *

The promise had still been fresh in the air when the worst-case scenario occurred.

We were separated.

Erik had made all sorts of adjustments to my slowness, taking that into account and planning around it. He was always prepared, always there.

And then the crowd came and someone barreled into me and he  _ wasn’t there.  _ I fell to the floor, crying out as I felt something  _ shatter.  _ It was the feeling of being strong and sure of yourself and your body, and all of a sudden your body just betrays you. 

But it wasn’t my body’s fault. It was my  _ gift. Curse.  _

I couldn’t move. I could scarcely draw breath from the weight of the pain. I couldn’t get up. People continued to move past me as if I wasn’t laying here broken. As if this was a regular Tuesday.

Hands were on my shoulders after several excruciating minutes, attempting to help me onto my feet. Relief swept me up and I looked back, expecting Erik’s traveling mask of tanned plastic.

A whole face looked back at me. Rugged, chiseled, with a couple of scars on the chin. Dark hair. I didn’t have to hear his accent to know. They had found me.  _ The Russians. _

__ “Vladimir sends his regards, Miss Daae.”

He tried to force me to stand, obviously intending to take my arm and drag me away. The moment my weight settled onto the foot of my injured hip, a scream its way out of my throat. So bloodcurdling, raw, and horrific sound I had ever heard come out of me.

__ The scream gave me a measure of relief—Erik would be nearby, he would hear me and surely someone would stop him—when I felt a stabbing sensation over the pain of my hip. Needle.

My vision darkened at the edges, limbs becoming weights. My throat constricted and no more sound could leave me. Darkness reached out and pulled me under.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeahhh... Cliffhanger ending. It means I'll be working to get another chapter out faster than my weekly usual. It hurts me just as much as you! Tell me how much you hate me. I'll have this portion of the story tied up by next chapter and Erik will finally start demanding his answers!~ Look forward to it!


	7. Captured

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruised, fractured, and completely at the mercy of those who wish to do her harm. A darkness awakens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of two chapters tonight.  
> TW: Violence, Abuse, Attempted Rape. (happy ending tho)  
> Song is Lights Out by Breaking Benjamin

**Cabin**

**Somewhere in Ontario, Canada**

**72 hours ago**

It's funny how right after I gained some measure of freedom, I wasn't demanding to go places, walk down streets, ride in taxis. No, I wanted to read what I wasn't allowed to read, listen to music I was banned from, and consume copious amounts of forbidden sweets and sugar.

Which meant that one of my favorite places ended up being the music room.

I snuck cookies that I'm certain Erik meant for me to find and a large book from the library and settled down on a too comfortable couch in the corner, music playing in the background as I read and munched.

It hadn't taken long after Erik showed me how to use his music library on his computer for me to build my own playlist of old favorites. Luckily, all libraries he owned tended to be quite stocked, even with media I was certain he would disdain but I once loved.

That was how he found me, curled up on the couch and a particularly angry Breaking Benjamin song played.

He held a tray of tea, nose wrinkling as he stared at me.

"I would not have pegged you for the teenage girl angst genre."

It was easier than it used to be to put down my book with his appearance. Four days with the man and I found myself quite startled by how much he invaded my very being. I wanted to understand his every flicker of feeling, his thoughts and desires. 

I was fascinated, enthralled, infatuated.

And entirely out of my depth. 

"It’s not like I’m up to date on all the current music. This is just what I liked when I was fourteen. It was a… It was a rough period in my life.” There was a moment where the awkward silence reigned, cackling at its victory over us. I cleared my throat, forcing cheerfulness to my voice. “Besides! Can you call it "teenage girl" music when it's sung by a man?"

"Does it normally target young females?" he fired back without losing a beat, picking up on my cue to just skirt the issue. He was quite tactful when he wanted to be.

"Probably… Diary of Jane doesn't feel like something a boy would like. I think."

That smug half smile made me want to do… Things. Positive, negative, and wholly inappropriate things. The sight of his smile disappearing into that damn mask, hiding the full effect of his smile, made me wish to tear it from his face. At least I knew enough about social norms to know that was _more_ than inappropriate. The thought of robbing him from whatever comfort he decided he needed was cruel.

He handed me the mug of tea, snatching the half empty bag of oreos. "I'm certain this was unopened this morning," he stated dryly.

"That's some coincidence," I murmured into my cup before taking a sip. I drew back, frowning at it. It was far too bitter compared to usual.

"It seems you are determined to ruin that lovely voice of yours with sugar."

I snorted. "Don’t worry, my voice will be the last thing to go. It'll sound eerily angelic even if I gorged myself on sugar."

Erik gave me a disbelieving look. "Do we need to have a talk about biology?"

"Don't even start that, Mr I-eat-less-than-a-rabbit!" I shot back.

My snarky remark was rewarded with another half smile, his eyes becoming soft in the corners. _Fondness._

...Was _I_ the rabbit? I pursed my lips a little at him, trying to discern his motives. Maybe he thought of me like a ward, a pet. 

At least he liked me.

Somehow, the thought didn’t comfort me as much as it should.

“Come, let us broaden your horizons. We can find you something more appealing than Breaking Benjamin.”

I eyed his back as he moved to his computer, lips curling in amusement. “Hmm, I didn’t mention the band, Erik.”

His gold eyes flashed over his shoulder. “A phase. That is all.”

Grinning, I moved to stand behind him with my tea. I hated the taste, but he made it for me so I would finish it. “Sure. If that helps you to sleep at night.”

“I don’t.”

“Yeah, we gotta have that biology talk, Erik.”

* * *

For a moment, I thought I was waking next to Erik in another plane. For that one glorious moment, I felt safe, warm, and taken care of.

And then that moment ended.

Pain like I’d never known came coursing through me, originating from my hip. It stole the breath from my lungs, drew tears from my eyes. I was perfectly still, but the movement from whatever vehicle I was in would jolt me—causing a new sensation of pain that would dull out the last.

With the agony came the memories.

Following Erik, eyes heavy and feet dragging despite my effort to keep up. Heart pounding in my head. Crowds, people streaming through the terminal. Erik looking down at his phone as he typed something in, yet never steering us into any obstacles or people.

A push. Something in me—my hip, I was certain—shattering like the body of any seventy-year-old.

_Vladimir._

Terror swept through me, but it only lasted so long before my hip reminded me that I had much worse things at stake. 

I was severely injured… And it didn’t feel like anything had been done for it.

I immediately thought of Erik, thinking of how frantically he would be trying to care for me, to make sure I didn’t feel any pain. At least I knew he cared for me.

Deep voices spoke above me in a different language I couldn’t understand but recognized. _Russian._ The knowledge made me feel cold even as my hip burned.

A command in Russian and then someone nudged me. The sudden pain that spiked within me had me cry out as my eyes flew open, searching for the source of my grief.

An older man in a tracksuit grinned. “I told you she’s awake.”

Another snorted. “The amount of pain she’s got to be in, I’d be surprised if _anyone_ would stay under after that.” The voice came from the front. The driver. 

My eyes rolling in my head, I took in the dank interior of a van. I was lying on the floor, looking up at the tracksuit man. He’d nudged me in the side with his foot.

“I _drugged_ her, Maxim, if it hadn’t worn off she wouldn’t have felt a thing.”

“I don’t think the boss wanted you to be quite so rough with her, Boris. If she was going to break anything, _he_ wanted to do it,” Maxim scolded.

Chills ran down my spine. They spoke in English because they _wanted_ me to hear. They wanted to make me scared.

The suggestive smile Boris gives me makes me want to puke. “I don’t think it’ll stop him. If anything, he’ll _like_ the screams of pain. I expect to be rewarded, thanks.”

Disgust was a living thing within me, combining with the pain to make me dizzy.

Where was Erik? Would he come for me? Had they tried to hurt him?

I didn’t bother trying to speak to them, didn’t try to beg for help. Boris’s aura was an ugly green— _Deceitful_ at his core. I couldn’t turn my head from the pain to check Maxim’s, but I knew, if they worked under Vladimir, neither would be the kind of man to give me aid. They would be like any of the others from my life in the apartment-prison, self-serving and evil. 

I felt something snap within me, depression sweeping in and wrapping around me. With men like these… I could only expect an existence of torture. That sadistic man would do everything to destroy me.

Hope was fading, fast.

The men continued speaking to one another, each word an attempt to rile me, to break me. Boris kicked me in the ribs when I didn’t rise to the occasion, but I didn’t give him the satisfaction of crying out in pain. A muffle of a grunt and then silence.

I was already dying inside.

* * *

They were rough in handling me, at first trying to force me to walk until they realized that I truly _couldn’t._ I was slowly shutting down, rejecting the world around me. With the pain in my hip, I wouldn’t be able to escape. I doubted I would have the ability to crawl away. 

They threw me on a bed in a ridiculously extravagant room, again rough with me as if trying to show me who was boss. They shared a worried look, muttering about how their boss wouldn’t appreciate a silent doll.

And then Maxim, his aura more orange than red— _Ambitious—_ poked at my hips. Once determining the one causing me the most pain—my brows twitched and lips thinned—he forcefully took the leg and pushed it up at a weird angle, the pain so fresh and serious that a scream tore its way out of my throat.

Sharing a look of gratification, they left the room, leaving my leg in that weird angle that felt as if fire seared it.

Soon as they left, I reached down to slowly force my leg into a more natural and less painful position, sweat plastered to my forehead. My breath came out in puffs, tears streaming down my cheeks. The leg was so useless that even the smallest nudge caused pain like it was going to fall off.

I felt like I was truly dying.

Much more moving of my leg and it felt like my hip would only be connected by the skin.

It wasn’t long before a woman entered with a bundle of items. Her aura was sheepish, unassuming. She was a worker who probably didn’t feel good about what she witnessed but knew better than to say anything about it.

A mindless drone, ruled by others in fear.

She didn’t speak as she used scissors to disrobe me and I was too exhausted to stop her. What’s a little more humiliation? 

After I was entirely naked, she used a damp sponge to clean my body with precise and gentle strokes. The chill of the sponge was comforting to my feverish flesh that I closed my eyes and drifted into my thoughts.

I thought of Erik, the fleeting moments we shared in the cabin and as we traveled. Even if we were being chased and I was too tired to truly stay awake, I cherished the time I had with him. I hadn’t felt so cared for, safe, and protected since my golden childhood. 

I missed him.

My mind conjured an image of that childhood, the woods I would explore and pretend to be a faerie in. My mom holding my hand as we ran through the forest. Erik appeared before us, tall and regal. The sight of my mother meeting Erik gave me such joy—the two most important people together.

It was then, as I was placed in the most disturbing white lingerie by an older woman who hadn’t spoken a word, that I realized I was no longer _infatuated_.

No. I love… Loved Erik.

I mourned him in my soul. The grief was so strong, raked my frame so painfully, that I gave into that good night. Darkness swallowed me whole and I wished never to come up for air. It would be a kinder fate than what awaited me.

* * *

Death eluded me, taunting me as pain forced me awake and alert with a scream that jarred me from the perfect silence.

There was a chill in the room, suffocating me. My eyes flew open, instantly finding the man who was the sole reason I was not with the only loved one I had in the world.

Hatred seared my body as I found his form. Dark hair, short, stout, and leering evilly at me. Last I saw of him, he was in a three piece suit, attempting to look far more put together. Putting up a good front in an attempt to win me. Now, he wore a simple tracksuit with a thick gold chain, looking every bit like he was a member of the Russian mafia.

The only relief I had was that he was on the other side of the room, seated in an armchair with a cigar hanging from his lips.

“Awake are you?” he cackled, taking pleasure in seeing me at his mercy, dressed in nothing but a skimpy slip of silk. “Amazing how getting what you wish for, hmm? I had toyed with the idea of breaking one of your legs… You ran from your aunt, after all. Do you know how hard she is looking for you?” 

Silence reigned in the room as he waited for me to reply. I wished he would hold his breath.

Displeasure whirled over his aura. “And Raoul!” he clicked his tongue. He was fishing. He wanted to know how to hurt me. “I have known him for a long time, you see. We attended the same boarding school in England. He is nothing, if not determined.”

He stands, not bothering to put out his cigar, and leisurely moves towards the bed—where I’m trapped. “In all these years… He has beat me at every turn.” His lips pull into a cruel smile. “Not this time.” 

For a moment, I can picture Erik. The kindest man I had ever known. Seeing him in my mind’s eye gives me the strength I need.

“I don’t give a damn about your unrequited love for Raoul.” The words feel so _good._ It almost overshadows the pain that immediately befalls me.

My head snaps to the side as my entire body hisses under the strain it causes to my hip.

A hand, rough on my face, turns my head back towards him. He doesn’t look upset, his smile still there. His aura has turned a grotesque purple. _Sadistic. Pleasure._

“Not to worry. I have no doubt you’ll understand where my… tendencies lie after I’m done with you.”

Fire. Blazing. Devouring. I let out a cry in shocked pain as he shoves the butt of his burning cigar into the soft flesh where the shoulder meets the chest. “Oh,” he groans out, coming closer. “The _sweet_ music we will make.”

His breath fans across my face, the scent so strong that combined with the pain in my hip, shoulder, the disgust he evoked with the idea of making any kind of _music_ with him and that _smell_ … My stomach revolts.

Vomit ejects itself from me without a warning. The view of it hitting him _directly_ in the face would have been hilarious… If I wasn’t under it, causing it to spill from him and back onto me.

I saw the exact moment he snapped and saw nothing else.

* * *

A wet sponge brought me back to the living. Vladimir was nowhere to be seen, but that timid woman had reappeared to ‘prepare’ me once again. She was clicking her tongue and speaking in her native language, sounding a lot like complaining. Probably about me.

It wasn’t long after—how long had I been out?—that Vladimir reappears dressed in new clothing and hair slicked back from a shower.

The woman immediately excuses herself as he storms inside, looking like fire was surging off his shoulders as his aura rioted in fury.

“I suppose you feel quite proud, hmm?”

He reached my side and immediately slapped me across the face again.

I _was_ proud when no sounds left me but for the sound of flesh on flesh.

Pleasure spiked over his angry aura, looking pleased himself. I was right, he got off on other’s pain. “I am going to make this so painful, you will _wish_ to die.” He drew a finger down my cheek—gentle like he was making a mockery of everything he had just done. And then his nail turned sharp on my skin, no doubt leaving a mark on my flesh.

I felt true fear then. Terror. This man was going to break me. He was going to _kill me._

It was in moments such as this that you truly learn who you are. It showed you if you would fold under pressure, to give up and accept your fate.

Or if you would reject such a fate, to fight for the chance to live a different life.

The days of wishing to throw myself off a balcony were over.

Erik… Had to be looking for me. I wouldn’t accept anything else.

Vladimir climbs onto the bed, forcing his body to settle in between my legs—the very act causing me so much pain that I screech right in his ear. He winces even as he smiles, glad to have caused such pain.

“It’s going to hurt so good,” he groans, trying to lower himself on top of me.

The pressure he puts on my bad hip is so excruciating that it nearly causes me to pass out from the torture. Another pain to my face tells me that he noticed and did what he could to keep me conscious. 

My arms immediately bat at him, weaker than I’d wished, slapping him in the face, clawing him where nails can find purchase. My voice leaves my throat in jagged screeches, somehow reaching an octave that makes my ears ring. He’s stunned for a moment before he’s restraining me, holding me down. He’s stronger, larger than I am. Any extra weight he places on me makes me feel as if my leg will snap clean off.

Will I die this way?

His hand wraps around my face, even as I try to fight him off, cackling. “Yes!” he snarls. “That fire! Come, my dear, fight me! Sing for me!”

The endearment, the call to sing…

He was tainting Erik. My sweet, perfect Erik.

I could feel that _something_ that was fundamental in every human shatter, snapping and becoming unrecognizable, even as someone pounded on the door. I stilled under Vladimir, eyes going blank as I felt darkness pulling at me.

It wasn’t the same darkness that normally signaled my exit from the world, the one that I’d gotten used to after so many times passing out, no, nono. This was seductive darkness, one that whispered to me softly. That fundamental part of me, the _light_ , slowly became dark. _And I welcomed it._

I was pulled back as Vladimir shook me, a gleam in his eyes that I’d never seen before.

“What have you done!?” he screamed, rattling me. For some reason.. It didn’t hurt my hip. It was numb, a gentle relief. “I have paid my dues to the _Reaper_ , why else would he be here but for you!?”

_Reaper._ The name held a familiarity… And yet I could not place it.

My lips curled in an expression I didn’t recognize as my own. It was like I was a silent spectator… And someone, _something,_ else had taken control. “Shall I sing for you?”

“Sing!? This is no time for singing, the Reaper is coming! He has killed—”

His words were cut off as lyrics spilled from my lips. Dark power twisted around them, pushing at his form. Probing. Looking for a crack in his armor.

_I am done pretending_

_You have failed to find what’s left_

_I will suck you dry again_

_Some are not worth saving_

_You are such a pretty mess_

_I will choke the life within_

His mental defenses were in shambles with his fear of the Reaper. It took no time at all to gain purchase within him.

“W-what is this!?” _Terror. Pain._

Found it.

He was petrified, his body shutting down in a futile attempt to block me out. To stop me. It was too late for him.

His pain filled me with a glorious satisfaction. I relished in it. The victim was no longer helpless.

_Now you want to take me down_

_As if I even care_

_I am the monster in your head_

_And I thought you’d learn by now_

_It seems you haven’t yet_

_I am the venom in your skin_

_And now your life_

_Is broken._

A detached part of me marvelled on the differences of what I was doing. Normally, I would be tired. But I wasn’t giving my strength away this time. No, I was _taking_. From this man who had planned to only take from me, to use, to destroy. How satisfying.

Strength surged in my body. Minor injuries—the bruises on my face, wrist, side; the burn on my shoulder—disappeared. The man hovering on top of me shook, face pale as sweat ran down his temples. His eyes were glazed over, no sound escaping him. With a simple flick of my wrist he was shoved off me, falling off the bed and to the floor.

_After the lights go out on you_

_After your worthless like is through_

_I will remember how you scream_

_I can’t afford to care_

_I can’t afford to care._

The pain disappeared in my hip. I pulled myself upright, sliding to the edge of the bed to sit there as I watched my handiwork. Hands supporting my chin in the worst singing posture, the voice that erupted from me was far too beautiful to be possible.

The ease I was able to do my task was surprising. During one session, I would normally only be able to give a small portion… Ten years at the max. But when taking… There didn’t seem to be a limit.

I could not stop, even if I’d wanted to. _And I did not._

_I am suffocating_

_You have failed to pull me in_

_I will drag you down again_

_Life is unrelenting_

_Feeding lies into my head_

_I will feed the lives you live_

I was watching this man, lying prone on the ground, his eyes unseeing as he stared up at the ceiling age as I sang. He had seemed to be at the prime of his life, perhaps his early thirties, and surging with virility. Now he was reduced to this. It filled me with delight.

His skin, once bright with life now ghastly pale, was becoming thicker, longer. His hair, before dark as night, grew gray then white. The knowledge that a man of nightmares was dying, by my hand, was exhilarating. 

We flip flopped. Now I was young, inside and out, and he was seventy.

He deserved it.

_Now you want to take me down as if I even care_

_As if I even care_

_I am the monster in your head_

_And I thought you’d learn by now_

_It seems you haven’t yet_

_I am the venom in your skin_

_And now your life_

_Is broken._

The last note rang out… And his eyes went dark. The terror, Vladimir, was dead.

I blinked down at him, slowly coming back to myself. The bloodthirsty part of me receded, leaving me with a dead body of an old man.. Staring up at me, glaring, cursing me with his dying breath.

It felt like with his death, he had stolen my innocence. The voice that normally healed… Could also harm.

Instead of _giving_ him life—years of my own life—I had _taken_ the years of his, giving me an excess. The filling it gave me was unlike any I had ever seen. I was strong in a way I hadn't been in years, full to the brim with vitality. I had stolen seventy years from the cruel man. I couldn't bring myself to feel bad. How much evil would he have done in such a long time? 

My thirty year life span suddenly became one hundred. Should I keep my gift to myself, I could easily live to be one hundred and twenty. 

It didn't escape my notice that I had a way of living.. forever. But the darkness that had threatened to dye my insides told me I would be destroying myself just as much as I'd be lengthening my life span. Giving in once didn't feel like it would cause lasting repercussions. Many more times… would be bad.

I tried to force myself to move, to wrap myself with a blanket, anything. But I couldn't do much more besides sit there and stare blankly, rejecting my reality. Even with the threat of the mysterious Reaper, I didn't have the ability to move.

Sounds reached me but I couldn't make sense of them. Loud and violent. I blocked it out, slowly wrapping my arms around myself as my body shook.

And then there was a sound I could understand. The latch of the door knob lifting and the creak as it opened. 

_"Christine."_

The fervent whisper was all it took to pull me from my stupor, to cause my head to snap up and whip towards the door. 

There, looking every bit like my black knight in his dark suit and dark shirt, was Erik. He became my lighthouse, shining the way through the darkness. I threw myself off the bed, intending to race to his side and throw myself at him when I trip over Vladimir's foot.

About to be sent sprawling onto the floor, my body jolts as it collides with Erik's strong form. He had covered the distance faster than I expected possible to yank me into his arms. 

Tears pooled, cutting new tracks into my tearstained face, as I finally felt safe once again. "Y-y-you're late!" I sobbed into his chest.

Hands pressed into my bare back as he held me tightly. "Forgive me," he whispered into my hair as he burrowed his face into my tresses.

He draws back after comforting me a bit and I immediately let out a whimper. He hushes me gently and a weight settles around my shoulders. His scent surrounds me and suddenly he's lifting me into his arms, taking me away from my nightmare. 

How I loved him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wrote 22 pages worth, so I had to cut it into two! 
> 
> This bit felt a little choppy but it is what it is. I'm hoping the choppiness helps to convey her mental state, as it was not good this chapter. This chapter hit a bit too close to home, so it was hard for me. This low will only make the highs that much better!
> 
> Reminder that if you guys are interested in mood boards or the aesthetics of this story, follow me on tumblr: the-dawn-comes.tumblr.com


	8. Confession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The time for answers have come. Truths, even half truths, are still truths, right? Among the answers is something Erik has prayed for... and feared.
> 
> He does not take it well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Angst. And Fluff. Not ashamed.

It was much later that I found myself in an old apartment in Tallinn, Estonia. It was an eleven hour trip from where we were—Moscow, apparently—to here. 

It took longer than I thought it would for my wits to return to me. The trip was spent clinging to Erik—because if I let him go, how could I trust that I wouldn’t suddenly lose him again? I could fall out of the car, we could get into an accident, we could be attacked—

He had to remind me to breathe often, no doubt shocked that for the first time in our travels I did not, in fact, pass out as soon as I was stationary. I stayed awake, wired, my eyes fixed on the road and waiting for any potential danger to befall us.

The apartment was a gentle mix of old world and new world design, tending closer towards neutral colors that gave it a sense of peace. It was a comfortable size for two, despite the fact that it only held one bed. Erik grimaced when I noticed, placing a familiar bag on the bed and throwing his own on the couch in a silent plea for me to say nothing of it.

I had spent the entire trip on high alert… Probably because as soon as I calmed down enough, I knew this would happen. I would start cataloguing his color— _ worry, uncertainty _ , notice the tension in his shoulders, read the lines of stress in his body.

It showed me that I wasn’t the only one that had gone through hell in the last twenty-four hours… Or so, since I truly didn’t know how long I was away from him.

A man of action, after we were situated and he directed me to the facilities should I require them, he went straight to preparing a simple meal. He spoke barely a word to me.

The silence had once been a comfortable companion between us—with him working on  _ something  _ and me reading a book from his library. Now it threatened to squeeze the life from me. 

The coward I was, I excused myself to use the bathroom, closing the door.

It was like shutting myself off from the sun and giving myself over to a freezing and dark winter.

Thoughts surged as I pulled myself to the mirror, overlooking all details of the bathroom. There could have been a pony in the room and I would never have noticed.

The face that stared back at me was  _ not _ the free girl I had seen a week or so before.

Dark circles, hollow eyes, pale skin.

_ Murderer. _

The face crumpled as I sunk to my knees, barely clinging to the edge of the sink as a strangled sob escaped me.

_ What have I become? _

__ That was, of course, how Erik found me. I absently wondered as he picked me up and carried me to the dining table how long it would take for him to grow tired of me. I felt so  _ different  _ from the girl he had first saved. I had been pure then. 

With infinite gentleness, he seated me at the table before a large bowl of soup.

“It’s canned, but you will feel better after you have something in your stomach.” His voice, so kind and soft, was a balm to my broken soul. It was hard not to just  _ fall  _ into him. To let him make everything alright. 

I basically already had.

Stopping had been nearly impossible for more than what it took to fill up his car, and I’d nearly had a melt down when he walked out of my sight for even a moment. Needless to say, neither of us had eaten in quite awhile.

I stared down at the food for a moment before looking up at him.

_ Concern. Sincerity. Affection. Worry. _

__ My brows furrowed. How could he not see how repulsive I was now?

“Why…”

“Do you need to eat?” he tried to finish for me when I couldn’t. “I don’t think we need a repeat of the biology talk, do you?”

He was trying to keep it light. A warm feeling grew in my chest, reminding me what I’d realized in those dark hours.

_ I love this man.  _

Cheeks flushing with the first color in hours, I blinked at him rapidly before I could formulate a response. “No. Why do you… care. About me. I… I killed a man, you know?”

His expression didn’t change. His emotions didn’t change. Had he not seen when he found me? I had  _ tripped  _ over the dead man’s body!

“Are you sure you want this conversation on an empty stomach?” He asked, sitting before me with a teacup. He looked completely nonchalant, but there was a sharpness to his eyes. He knew..  _ Something.  _

The glow to my cheeks paled once more. I didn’t like that look, like he could see  _ right  _ through me in a way that not even I could see through him. Lowering my face, I dipped the spoon into the soup and drank.

It was tasteless to me, nerves robbing me of it. But it was warm as it went down, reaching a part of me that had stayed full of dread and chill for too long. 

It was finished probably faster than it should have, but my stomach didn’t feel like it would riot. I grimaced, reminded of the last time it did.

Erik lowered his teacup the same time I lowered my spoon, pushing his chair out as he stood with all the grace and elegance he always seemed to possess. He moved to stand behind me, every bit a gentleman as he helped me out from my seat. He directed me to the sofas behind me, taking a seat on the strange ottoman/chaise directly in front of it.

They were low seats and when a man of his height sat at it, his knees were bent at odd angles, nearly touching mine. The almost touch was enough to keep me calm, to stave off the tide of insanity threatening to pull me under.

“Now, my dear—”

I flinched, his emotions immediately rising in response.  _ Fear, concern, worry. _

“What is it?” he asked quickly, arms reaching out towards me. But he didn’t touch me, his hands falling back and clenching against his knees.

“I’m sorry,” I shakily replied, hands reaching to smooth over my face. I didn’t want to be upset by the endearment, didn’t want something that was so distinctly  _ him  _ to be tainted by the one time Vladimir said it. He hadn’t even known about Erik—because if he had, he would have taunted me with  _ him  _ instead of Raoul. “It’s nothing.”

He did not believe me, his thinned lips and narrowed eyes telling me that. But he didn’t reject it either. A small kindness.

“I think it is past time for you to explain  _ why  _ there are people willing to go to  _ war  _ over you. I have done what I can to wait; after all, I understand the need for certain secrets.” He waved a hand towards his face. “However, this now affects my ability to keep you safe.” His jaw set at that.  _ Insulted.  _ His pride was hurt. “I shall answer your question first, Christine.”

My name on his lips immediately drew me in, drawing in a breath. It was like his tongue was caressing my name as it slipped out of his mouth… Like he was tasting something delicious.

“Do you not understand how much blood taints my hands? If I thought less of you for an act that occurred out of self-defense, I would be no better than the unwashed masses.” He gave me a hard look of challenge. “Your turn.”

Panic hit me. I stalled.

“I.. I have two conditions, first. Would you humor me?”

“Depends.” That did not help my anxiety.

I could see his aura. I stared hard at it, looking past the colors of his moods.

When I had first met him, I had been charmed by such a varied aura—and one where the black seemed to exist in harmony rather than overshadowing all there was. It was as if the artist had personally mixed the colors slowly, drop by drop, until they reached the perfect cool gray. His edges had been dipped in darkness, stained— _ that _ was what always called me to share my light. 

I had sung for him several times now, and knew by sight that his darkness had almost entirely disappeared. He required one more song before his body would be healed.

I knew now that when he’d first ask me to sing for him in payment for my escape, he’d never expected me to heal him. And I knew I had done it because I wanted to. Not because he had asked it of me. I held so many years now after… I mentally blocked out the event, shuddering. It would only be right to share them with Erik, my savior. My protector.

He might not want to be near me after he knows what I am capable of, what I have done to myself to help him, but I at least owed it to him.

“Would you let me sing for you?”

He looked momentarily surprised before his eyes grew suspicious. “I have thought about this before… Your voice holds such heavenly tones. Do you mean to use it to escape explaining? I warn you, Christine, I will not let this go, even if I should pass out.”

“I… I don’t want you to let it go. I owe you ample explanation. I promise, even if you black out, I won’t go anywhere. I’ll wait for you.”

He slowly nods, deeming that acceptable. “And your second condition?”

It was the most embarrassing. I looked down at my hands, eyes catching where the purple ring had adorn my skin for so long. I had wondered for a time if I would never be free of it, a constant reminder of what might await me if I am not careful. 

I opened my mouth to tell him what I wanted… Only to close it. I was going to ask for the lights to be out like a coward so I wouldn’t have to see the rejection in his eyes and aura. But no. I had to face him head on. I had to be honest… About everything. How I felt about him and what I’d done to him.

Before everything else, he needed to know that I loved him.

I looked back up at him, flashing an uneasy smile. “Promise.. Not to freak out.”

I didn’t wait for him to promise. I opened my mouth and allowed gentle lyrics to weave around us.

It didn’t wear me out like it did before. It didn’t cause any pain. Maybe because I had so much in excess that my body was  _ happy  _ to give it away.

Or maybe it was just a selfish kind of happiness, knowing that in some way I was helping the man I love.

I watched the darkness inking over his edges disappear, becoming smooth and perfectly gray. He was healed, his body in perfect condition.

The song was over before I was ready to tell him the truth.

Dread swirled in my belly.

Surprisingly, Erik did not pass out this time. Perhaps it had something to do with how light the darkness around his aura had been. It probably had something to do with the mask he always wore, but it could have very well been much more serious—affecting his body processes inside as well—since it took a good twenty-five years of my life to heal.

Instinctively, I knew I had ninety-five years. At this moment, I could live to be one hundred and fifteen. The thought made me feel just a little ill.

He looked at me, head tilting to the side as if trying to understand what was different this time. I tried to just shrug it off, mind racing about what I was about to say.

When I realized how I felt, I didn't even expect to  _ tell  _ him, let alone see him again. It was so overwhelming, do I just come out and say it!?

“Christine…”

It was a gentle prod. To talk.

I took a deep breath in and then let it out with a whoosh. I was shooting myself in the foot anyways, might as well go out with a bang.

“Before I tell you  _ exactly  _ why everyone wishes to possess me like an object, there’s something I have to say. To tell you.”

Erik’s emotions were struggling to stay patient, but he knew I was stalling. His raised eyebrows seemed to be conveying an obvious ‘well?’

“I love you, Erik. I’m in love with you.”

I knew it was surprising, we’d known each other for maybe two weeks… But it was true. Even if it was surprising, I didn’t expect such a… volatile reply.

Erik exploded. His emotions first. Light and gentle emotions gave way to turbulence that put any plane I’d been on to shame.

_ Shock. Astonishment. Awe. Joy. Dismayed. Nauseated. Overwhelmed. Horrified.  _

And then his body.

He tore himself away, bounding over the little ottoman in an effort to escape me. The spot he left was like a massive void. 

The mood swing seemed to sweep me up with them, hopeful and optimistic… And then complete despair. When I had wondered how he had reacted, this was  _ never  _ the scenario I envisioned. 

Had… Had I ruined everything?

I pulled my legs to my body, hugging them to me—a coping mechanism. An explosion of anger was nothing new. I had dealt with worse before. Just… never from Erik. I turned slightly, keeping him in my field of vision. He was pacing through the apartment, muttering to himself as that lovely gray tapestry of a aura was painted with the most hideous colors. I hadn’t even known he could be capable of such colors. Had he been… Could he have been holding back all this time? Concealing them? That the colors he’d shown were only the tip of the iceberg?

And why…  _ Why was he so upset that I loved him? _

__ “Erik?” I called out to him weakly, scared of the response.

He cut off his mutterings, head whipping to stare me down with those blazing yellow eyes. I couldn’t see any of the tenderness he usually showed me, however. They looked  _ crazed.  _

“Ah, yes!” he hissed, moving closer with long legs. The strides looked barely contained, a large cat prepared to pounce. “You must tell me how you are able to lie through your teeth, my dear.”

I flinched at the endearment once again. He did not miss it.

“Even now, you can barely handle my affection! See how you recoil from such a simple address!” He set his hands on the back of the couch, leaning in close. I didn’t pull back, even when I could make out the amber in his eyes and feel the heat of his breath.

Those eyes, so full of pain and longing, called to me. Screamed for salvation. My hand rose, almost of its own accord to cup his cheek.

He balked, drawing back even. He seemed uncertain for a moment before something occurred to him, allowing him to pull his shields back up securely around him as a sneer appeared on his face. He stalked around the couch, giving me the time to try to bolster my spirits. He wouldn’t have spoken of any affection had he felt nothing for me.

It gave me courage. Hope.

“You speak of love, tempting the beast with what he cannot have! Beast tamer, scheming Delilah!”

Hurt bloomed in my chest. He stopped before me, retaking that void he’d left in his wake before. This time, however, he was so,  _ so _ close. Closer, and the look in his eyes… he meant to shock me. Like a child might use a curse word to shock someone and gain the advantage.

_ “But now you will see!” _

He ripped off his mask and wig, the intensity of his movements and the ferocity of his aura overwhelming me. Blue and purple slapped together like a raging wave, the color resembling that of an eggplant. The howl of anguish that escaped him stabbed at my very soul.  _ Grief. Self-loathing. Despair. _

_ “Look at me!”  _ He wailed, even as his emotions begged me to save him.  _ “Tell me I’m hideous! No one could love such a beast!” _

I looked. I looked hard at him. Tried to see the monster in the man. But.. there was  _ nothing _ upon his face that no other man held. Eyes, though a strange color—the best color, I’d decided—looked no different than another. A aquiline nose, just barely hooked like an eagle’s beak. It looked like hair had recently sprouted on his head, the hairs dark and promising to be every bit as full as the wig I hadn’t realized he was wearing. A strong chin. Full cheeks. Thin lips. One side of his face was a bit paler than the other, but being hidden behind a mask would do that to a person.

He was beautiful.

I had done this. With my voice. Whatever had been there before, it wasn’t there now. Whatever had shaped his life, I had stolen from him. Would he see this as a curse? To be robbed of the reason for his pain? Or would this become the greatest blessing? He no longer had to live the way he once had. He could be  _ anyone.  _ He could be with..  _ Anyone. _ Would he… leave me?

The thought gave me such terror that I surged forward, feet hitting the ground to give myself the leverage needed, with such speed that he cowered back from me, a splash of vivid green appeared before me as he tripped and fell onto the chaise.  _ Terror.  _ It stopped me short, my hand reaching out for him. Wishing to bridge the rift between us but unable to. He thought.. I would harm him?

His golden eyes watched my hand like a fearful animal might, waiting for the pain.

Fingers slowly curling inwards as my arm fell limp to my side, I tried my best to convey my feelings to him. He wasn’t like me. He couldn’t see my color. How could I make him understand?

“Even if.. You were a repulsive monster, my feelings would never change. You are my  _ savior. _ For that alone, I will always love you.”  _ Even if you don’t want me for what I’ve done. _

My eyes burned, shoulders trembling. I did my best to force a solid front before him, but it was so  _ hard.  _ A wild animal would sense fear. Or perceive such a spectacle as fear. I could not allow him to live in the misunderstanding that I  _ feared  _ him.

“ _ Never _ will I stop loving you.” The amount of fervor that backed up that promise shook me. Like a palm tree in a hurricane. “And because I love you… You have to know the truth.”

A maniacal look came into his eyes, his body language. I had to wonder if he could hear me, if he could see me. For surely, he could not see me as I saw him.

“The truth!” He spat out, more beast than man as he exploded into motion like a pent up jaguar. Waiting for an opening. To go in for the kill. “She speaks of truth, yet she refuses to see what is before her!” He stopped, so still I could have confused him for a statue. And then he was upon me, strong hands gripping my wrists and forcing my hands against his face. “ _ Feel it! Look upon the monster who loves you!” _

__ Forced, I did not fight against him. My hands flattened against his face. There was no illusion here, the skin firm and taut with a healthy glow about it under my fingers.

Tears streamed down my face, despite the effort I’d put forth not to. “I am sorry,” I whimpered. “I am so sorry.”

“Yes!” he spat in my face, fury in those eyes. He could not see me. He was lost somewhere in his memories. “Pity for your monster! No love, only pity! Do you not wish to see your dear friend, Raoul? Tell me you love me and I will allow you to see him once more!”

I could feel my heart—what was left of it—breaking for this splintered man. It was a soft sound, like the snapping of a bird’s wing. He thought he could only gain my love through the true corruption, the genuine beast, Raoul?

“How.. How do you even know of him?” My voice was quiet, fighting off the despair I knew was just under the surface, waiting for an excuse to pull me under.

“There! You see, you cannot deny it! Did you think it was some special secret, the childhood love you felt for that fop?! What a picture perfect life you would have had before ugly Erik took you away!”

“Do you think so lowly of me?” I whispered. My hands would have fallen from his cheeks had he not held them in place, to recoil away from the pain his words caused. “That I would never love you for you? That you must use that  _ bastard  _ to gain my love?”

There. The colors changed. I had gotten through to him.  _ Shock, confusion.  _ He didn’t know what to make of me insulting a man he thought to be my true love.

“ _...do you hate me?”  _ I croaked.

The coldest, saddest blue overcame him and he slid to his knees between my legs, hands releasing me as he forced his face against my stomach. He was still hiding… He still didn’t know.

“ _ Christine—No _ ! No no nonono!” He was shaking his head against my stomach, and I could feel dampness gather there. My arms hung useless at my sides. I couldn’t.. Comfort him. Not until he saw. Not until he knew.

A hand on his shoulder, I eased him back and his arms let me go. He would never hold me against my wishes. He looked shattered, long arms reaching towards me but unable to take hold as he settled on his haunches. I was so very drained. His colors were so powerful, so taxing, that I felt like I needed to sleep the next twenty years of my life away. I slumped back into the pillows of the couch.

Maybe I would only feel better when I was dead.

“...You can decide whether or not you can still profess any love for me after you look in a mirror.” He looked like I’d just sent him to the gallows. “After you see what I have done to you,” I added, still trying to comfort him despite everything. 

Confusion painted him. Despite my body regaining its strength and youth, I felt like I was on the verge of passing out. How much more could I take?

I didn’t watch as he picked himself up. Didn’t watch as he dragged himself into the bathroom.

A thief was what I had become. I had robbed from him what I imagined to be his deformity. I had robbed from myself the chance to prove that I could love him despite it.

I had loved him from the moment he’d appeared on my balcony. And I might never be able to prove it.

His voice shattered the semblance of peace in what I had started to wish could become our  _ home _ .

_ “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!?” _

__ I couldn’t bear to look at him when he came charging back into the room. I was a coward, but I didn’t think I would survive the look that was probably in his eyes. To feel his colors wash over me. 

_ “ _ What you asked of me when you saved me.” My voice sounded dead to me. And perhaps I was that much closer to it. People could die of a broken heart, and I certainly felt like mine had. “‘If you promise to sing for me’ was your bargain to save me. You saved me. I sang for you. My voice healed you. That is why people wish to possess me.”

His mouth dropped open, shock covering him. I watched as the lips opened and closed repeatedly, trying to comprehend, trying to form words.

“I know now… That’s not what you meant. You didn’t even  _ know _ . You were never asking me for my…  _ ability.  _ How nice, knowing you simply wanted me with you.” I smiled, but it was a crude remake of the easy and happy smiles he usually inspired. “I don’t regret it. Helping you.”

“Is..” His voice was quiet, like all the emotions from before had gone out of him. “That is the reason why you are always so.. tired. The reason why you were trapped in that place.” A statement, more than a question. He had already come to the right conclusion.

I took a deep breath and released it as a sigh. No matter what I told him, he would blame himself. But I loved him too much to let him be the martyr. Heavens knew he was dramatic enough. Steeling myself, I finally looked up at him for the first time since he’d reentered, knowing the truth.

Shoulders drooping, eyes directed at my feet, hands convulsing at his side. He looked utterly defeated. He was the color of a raging ocean,  _ despair,  _ rolling off him in waves. My poor Erik.

“Come here,” I beckoned, patting my lap. Like a spell had settled over him, he crossed the room with mechanical steps, lowering himself at my feet. He was just barely in reach, so I held my arms out and pulled his head to rest on my lap. His torso pressed against the side of my leg, arms slowly wrapping around my waist. His muscles were tense and coiled, ready to bolt. Running my fingers through the very short dark hairs that had sprouted on his head, I felt the tension start to die away from him. I opened my mouth to speak just as he let out a gentle sigh…

Once upon a time, in the magical countryside of Sweden, a single drop of sunshine fell from the heavens. From this drop grew a golden flower. It had the ability to heal the sick, the injured. A family of healers came across this flower, and after learning of its abilities, it was given to the eldest son, who was very sick. The magic golden flower healed the boy—and bestowed him a wonderful gift. When he sang, he could impart a bit of that power, sharing the sun’s gift with those who need it. The family rejoiced for their beloved son and brother became a ray of sunshine in an otherwise desolate time of famine and pain. Their family prospered and the first born always upheld the family duty… Helping hundreds...

“This is the story I was told,” I murmured quietly, as if trying not to disturb the heavy mood of the room. Erik was very still, it was only by the sound of his breathing and the weight on my lap that I knew he was still there. “A fanciful tale that omitted the darker details.”

“Aren't most stories thus?” Erik’s voice was twinged with dark mirth. Usually when he spoke with that self deprecating tone, it was a reference to a history I didn’t know. If only he would confide in me.

I decided to ignore his comment, continuing with the true story of my family’s history.

“In truth, the first born was simply a means to an end.” I spoke through clenched teeth, the truth still raw even after figuring all this out ages ago. “The first born is a cruel sacrifice for the family’s happiness. They decided to use the flower to heal the sick son, and he and his progeny have been forced to pay it back. Every time we sing with the intent to  _ heal _ , there is a price that we must pay. It is their  _ duty _ .

“My  _ duty  _ is to be  _ bred _ and  _ die  _ for my family.”

“Not anymore,” Erik hissed, and I could just see his shoulders raise with his hackles, the passionate animosity towards the very idea coating his aura.

“Maybe it would have been better if he had died.”

Twin orbs of yellow fire ignited before me as his head snapped up, his arms around my middle tightening almost painfully. The strength in those arms—that I had felt multiple times and knew with a surety of—held me so gently despite the steel I knew his thin flesh covered. Like I was precious. Like  _ I,  _ and not my voice, mattered.

“Never say that, Christine.” His voice was hard, unrelenting. “For you are the accumulation of all of those firstborns. This world has no light without you, my Christine.”

“Yours, hmm?” I smirked tiredly, unable to stop myself from teasing him. “I remember you saying I couldn’t love you.”

“...You shouldn’t have been able to. No angel would willingly sully herself with a demon.”

My hands clapped around his face so quickly it let out a resounding clapping sound in the room, shocking Erik into silence. “You are not a demon,” I declared, glaring at him. “You don’t get to say that about the man I love.”

The shock bleeds away to the sweetest color I had only seen hints of here and there. A blushing pink, gentle like the caress of a rose or the laughter of a child.  _ Love. Affection. Devotion.  _ My hands on his face brushed against his cheeks lovingly as I read the look in his eyes just as well as his emotion.

“Dearest, loveliest Christine,” he murmured. “You are  _ my  _ savior.”

I don’t know when I fell asleep—I had gone from absently running my fingers through his fledgling hair to being tucked into my bed. And Erik was nowhere to be found.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...Heh. Kind of evil cliff hanger but you diiiid get two chapters in a row so... Sorry not sorry?
> 
> This about wraps up part one, part two will be getting... spicy. Action. Different kinds of action.  
> (Oh no, can I even write that.. but I have that mature rating.. gotta live up to it! YEH)
> 
> Lemme know whatcha think!! (Blatantly fishing for compliments [or hate], no shame)


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